"If you wish to continue south, then we will simply trust…"
"Absolutely not!" countered the Maestro. "We will take this little detour, and when we reach the coast, we can simply follow that until we reach the city. It will add an extra week to our journey, but since I have two such fine sponsors as yourselves, the scenic route will be fine by me. After all, it's your platinum," he concluded, and then stomped off toward his beetle.
"Goppi," Morgyn called, in a waning hope of calming him down.
"As far as that goes, why don't we just follow the coast all the way to New Malice?" the Maestro continued contemptuously while climbing his beetle. "I'm sure that would make a lovely addition to our schedule!"
***
During the night, Jesse stirred in the chilled air. He seemed to be wearing clothes now, but had kicked the blanket off. He rose up on one elbow while casting about for a bearing, yet he no longer made an effort to question his surroundings, whatever they turned out to be. If he were insane, so be it. In the meantime he had more immediate concerns, for illusionary or not, the things in this particular delirium were quite capable of inflicting a variety of adverse effects, including exposure to the elements, hunger, thirst, and outright pain, such as might occur when one strikes a ten-ton rock with one's head.
"You'll catch a chill," warned a soft voice in the dark.
Jesse tensed, but relaxed again as the blanket was first draped, and then tucked about him to avoid any drafts. "What… Who are you people?" he whispered.
"We are but a simple company of student bards, milord."
He seemed to consider this for a moment. "Name's Jesse," he offered while extending his hand.
There followed a long pause as Aqua attempted to fathom the man's odd introduction. Perhaps he is from someplace with differing customs, she pondered. Presently, she leaned forward, cautiously taking his hand in her own, then kissed it quickly before rushing out of the supply/hospice to sprint all the way back to her own beetle, and her own tent.
***
Early on the following morning, Jesse stepped outside just before light to relieve himself in the nearby foliage. He failed to take any special notice of his mysteriously acquired attire. As he re-entered the tent, however, he was beset by a most upsetting image.
***
"Ow!" shouted Sibastian as he struck his forehead on the overhead tent pole in reaction to the scream/shout that abruptly issued from the rear of the caravan.
***
"I hate rabbits," Jesse lamented to no one as he picked himself up.
"What's wrong?" asked Braumis, poking his head out of his tent.
In response, Jesse merely pointed at the supply tent with one hand while feeling the third bump to be raised on his head this week.
"The hare?"
"Yeah. Rabbit, hare…whatever."
"Everlasting Gwaurdenbog!" Braumis shouted, fairly jumping to the ground while making to intercede on behalf of his beloved supplies.
"You watch your language, young man!" Lady Pransis reprimanded him as she rounded the corner in time to see Braumis drop-kick the hare from the tent to the nearby foliage, where it landed with a pronounced, "Ooof."
"Here now! What did that poor creature do to earn such treatment?"
"He was eating our supplies!"
"Are you all right, dear boy?" she inquired of the Half-elf.
"Uh, yeah."
"Oh good, because from your resounding bellow, I rather thought that ferocious bunny might well have ripped you to pieces before assistance could arrive," she intoned sweetly, and then turned to make her way back to her own tent.
"Th… They do that?" he asked, not knowing what to believe concerning the laws of nature anymore.
"She turned briefly to deliver a somewhat unbelieving expression that was answer enough, and then continued.
While once again climbing the ladder, Jesse froze as the sun's first rays struck his apparel broadside in an apparent struggle to determine which was louder. He gazed at the short, bright, baggy green pants, belled at knee-length cuffs, and profusely covered in tiny red hearts. Beneath the pants, he wore lemon yellow leotards, covered in red diamonds, while on his feet were an odd pair of red furry slippers, resembling two small wolf-heads with long red leather tongues that stuck out of their mouths and extended in an upward curling sweep above their bulbous black noses. In contrast, his overly long-sleeved shirt was a rich royal blue, covered in black clubs and spades, while upon his head, just above the last bump issued, rested an odd type of cap. He took it off, noticing that it was covered in long, floppy, multicolored swathes that had been tied together and capped with a small leather bag. When Jesse removed the bag, a cascade of tiny silver bells fell about the strange hat in a floppy haphazard fringe while jingling at the end of each swathe.
"Hey! I spent half the morning fixing that," Miria scowled as she rounded the corner, quickly snatching the hat out of his hands.
"Sorry," he offered, leaving both her and the unwanted hat behind as he climbed the ladder.
***
"Braumis!"
"Yes?"
"Lady Pransis said you were mistreating the bunny," she accused.
"That's right," he confessed proudly.
"All right. Before I come up there and give you the thrashing of your life, would you care to explain yourself?"
"He keeps breaking into the supplies!"
"Oh, that dastardly villain!" Miria intoned sardonically.
"Fine," Braumis scowled. "If you're so unconcerned, then let's just say the supplies missing are from your share."
"How much could one little bunny eat?" she asked.
"Not certain," he replied with a grin. "But judging solely from the bruise his arse left on my foot, I'd place his appetite between that of a stone beetle and a mountain boar."
"You…you kicked him?" she asked, her countenance abruptly shifting from cross to wounded.
"Well," he began uncertainly.
"Oh, Braumy, I had thought better of you than that," she sniffled in a cracked voice as tears welled.
"Aww, now, don't start that," he moaned.
"Where is he?" she asked, wiping her eyes.
"All right, all right," he groaned while exiting his tent, his drooping shoulders matching his resigned expression.
As Braumis and Miria went off in search of the poor downtrodden bunny, the hare quietly hopped behind and past them to ascend the ladder. He then successfully reentered the tent, yet again.
***
"Hey! This what ya looking for?" Jesse called to the small search party as they rummaged through the bushes.
Both Miria and Braumis glanced back to witness the hare holding a carrot, as though it were a baby bottle, supporting the heavy end with its hind feet while using both front feet in order to hold it still. Amazingly, this was all accomplished while being dangled about as Jesse held it up by its ears.
Upon witnessing this injustice, both Dwarf and Wood-elf shrieked as they immediately bolted to the rescue. Miria rescued the bunny, and Braumis liberated the remains of the carrot.
***
"Do I look like a Ranger?" Marcus snapped.
"I simply thought to ask your opinion," Borin muttered through clenched teeth.
"Well, I suppose it might be her," he ventured, tapping at the warm ashes. "Or it could be almost anyone. For that matter, she could well still be in Brinehaven!"
"I don't think so."
"And why may I ask would you believe otherwise?" Marcus inquired suspiciously, turning to face Borin with an accusatory expression.
"I'm really not certain," Borin answered honestly, his brow furrowing deeper. "It's just an odd feeling…"
"What say we all take a small nap?" Reginald suggested from a nearby tree while resting his head on an exposed root and pulling some type of odd shimmering blanket over his face to block out the early morning light.
***
"The ashes are cold, but the culprits could yet be within a day's travel, mil
ady."
"No. It's of no concern to our quest."
"Oh, I agree completely, my Baroness."
"Good."
"It's only…"
"Do spit it out, Effigee!"
"Well, to be perfectly candid, I feel there could be trouble from the bearers if we don't at least make some token effort…"
"For the Emperor's sake!" Teristha exclaimed. "They're nothing but blasted Trolls!"
At this, the majority of the allies assigned as laborers to Teristha's quest turned to scowl at their new sovereign commander.
"Milady, please!" Effigee pleaded softly. "Perhaps the Baroness should consider their volatile natures."
"Yes," agreed Teristha slowly, now acutely aware of several dozen Trolls as they gazed intently in her direction from within range of torches mounted on her Troll-born litter, and an even greater number of silhouettes, vague in shape, but easily identified by the red reflection of their eyes as they all seemed to track her every move. "Along with their numbers, I should think."
"Yes, milady, that too," Effigee whispered.
The sun will be up soon," began Teristha in a more cordial tone. "Our good friends will be burrowing down for a well-earned day's sleep," she continued, now speaking loudly enough to be overheard.
"Yes, well earned," echoed Effigee.
"I think we should extend our assistance, don't you?"
"Oh, yes. Absolutely," Effigee smiled.
"Good, good. Then as soon as you've finished with the camp's concealment illusion, you won't mind scouting ahead for those nasty killers of innocent Trolls."
Chapter Six-Funny Bunny
Braumis jumped with a start as Jesse suddenly leapt out of bed with an alarmed expression.
"Giant beetles!" he exclaimed.
"What?" asked Braumis.
"And that was no crow-chicken. That was a Roc!"
"Where? cried Braumis, quickly poking his head out of the tent.
"You!" Jesse shouted.
"Me?" queried Braumis, his apprehension rising as he faced the unstable Half-elf.
"You're a Dwarf!" Jesse declared accusingly.
"All right…I admit it."
***
"I mean…well, yes, he's obviously witless," Minuet replied, factoring the Half-elf's reaction to her ferocious bunny comment, "though he seems harmless enough."
"I've no doubt he's witless, milady," interjected Sibastian. "Witless is a description easily attributed to that entire diluted bloodline. Even so, how many people, breed or otherwise, have you heard of as traipsing through open wilderness in the buff, unless they were completely deranged?"
"We can't just abandon the poor fellow, Sibastian. He would never survive," Morgyn insisted, his expression suggesting a concern for the Prince's lack thereof.
"Here, here, Morgy!" Minuet voiced in approval.
"After all, Prince," Morgyn continued, "are we not civilized? Surely we can extend enough good will to at least convey the unfortunate to a more populated area."
"He was alive when we found him, Master Nowtright. And as I detected no evidence of anyone else to credit with his good health prior to his unfortunate residence among us, then it would seem to me that he can fend for himself well enough."
"And you're a High-elf!" Jesse exclaimed, suddenly rushing up to Sibastian, who accordingly toppled backwards off the small boulder he had been using as a stool, to land flat on his back while staring up, somewhat dumbfounded, directly into the face of his accuser.
"And you're a Gnome!" Jesse continued, thrusting an accusatory finger in Minuet's face, before rushing off to accuse other people, creatures, and occasionally, inanimate objects of being what they were.
"Still think he's not deranged?" whispered Sibastian, as he peeked over the top of the boulder until certain the maniac was out of earshot.
"I never said he wasn't," replied Morgyn. "On the other hand, are you yet of the opinion that he's sufficiently competent to fend for himself?"
***
" Wayward Fates! " raved the hairy-faced, comically clad lunatic as he rushed erratically about the camp. "It's all Wayward Fates !"
Normally immune to the distraction of bipedal interactions, the Rhino beetle did casually raise a lone antenna, just in case the approaching boisterous Priest of Nature looked as if it might actually tip completely over the edge of the lunacy he seemed to be nearing.
"You're a Rhino beetle!" he accused the Rhino beetle, who accordingly took several evasive sidesteps, and then continued munching its grassy breakfast while hoping for peace.
"What's going on?" Aqua mumbled in lethargic response to the combination of her mount's sudden motion and the Half-elf's ardent insinuations.
Noticing the bleary-eyed Wood-elf, Jesse commenced to loose yet another obvious observation. "You're a…" he began, and then trailed off as some unidentified memory of a newborn infant with a slobbery grin and unregulated bladder suddenly attempted to gain access to the forefront of his attention.
Aqua's eyes shot open, as she realized that the cause of the handsome Half-elf's discord must surely be her hideously disheveled condition. Accordingly, her hasty retreat beneath the beetle's saddle blanket was not entirely dissimilar to a North Aphorine Hermit Turtle's withdrawal from, well, just about anything.
"You must be Mr. Berrach," an oddly muffled voice from behind stated.
Jesse spun about, so as to identify which type of creature his drug-induced rendition of the game caused to address him directly. What he found was nothing he could associate as having a role in his latest epiphany.
The Rabbit, same rabbit, was now standing erect, and leaning against a tree. This in itself was profound enough behavior, but he also appeared to be wearing an exact, albeit a diminutive duplicate, of Jesse's own clownish apparel. "I don't suppose you would have any salt?" inquired the muffled Rabbit as he bit the carrot, thereby packing his already overly packed cheeks as he blew a stray jingle-bell out of his face.
"Don't think so," Jesse replied dumbly while absently searching for pockets that the costume did not possess.
"Pity," sprayed the Rabbit. "Oh, dear! Do excuse me, won't you? Haven't quite got the hang of this creature yet."
"No problem," Jesse assured the Rabbit, while absently brushing bits of orange flake from his face and shoulders without taking his eyes from the odd little apparition.
"You know," offered the Rabbit cordially while sitting, leaning back against the tree, and biting another hunk out of the carrot. "Hares really are quite fond of fresh vegetables. I mean honestly, I had no idea."
"Uh-huh,"
"It's not unlike a drunkard to alcohol, really."
"Uh-huh."
"This little fellow rather puts one in mind of Crumly, don't you think?" the Rabbit tittered while numerous bits of carrot escaped the corners of his mouth.
"Umm…"
"Oh, that's right, you don't remember him, do you?"
"Uh-huh."
"You do?" the Rabbit asked in surprise.
"Huh? Umm… Huh-uh."
"Yes, well that's rather what I thought. Do try to pay attention, won't you?"
Jesse glanced about to see if he could determine if anyone other than himself found talking rabbits as odd as he did. This was difficult in reference to the Wood-elf girl, who was still beneath the beetle blanket. She should have heard the Rabbit, but if she hadn't seen him, then she might not know it was a Rabbit speaking. The others, still sitting by the campfire, seemed oblivious of the Rabbit. In fact, they appeared to be just plain oblivious.
This drew his attention to a number of other disturbing details. There was no breeze, no birds chirping, and no other sound or movements. The smoke from the campfire wasn't rising. It just hung there. The fire itself wasn't crackling, or even dancing about as a fire should. It was still there. It just wasn't moving.
"I wish there was more time for proper introductions," continued the Rabbit as he swallowed the entire mouthful. "Regrettably, you and I will simply have to make do
with what few moments there are."
"Who…what are you…"
"Do try not to interrupt, dear boy. I don't wish to appear rude, but we really are pressed."
"Umm…"
"My name is Surripere," said the Rabbit in introduction. "A very long time ago, I was in the employ of a rather unpleasant fellow known as Abhoron. As a matter of fact, you might say I was part of the family. You see, I am one of his creations."
"Uh-huh."
"Now, one might imagine that since I am the creation of such an unpleasant individual, I should be just as unpleasant. Well, yes, in the beginning maybe I was, but I was originally crafted for the purpose of certain diplomacies between the Gods…a messenger of sorts. Quite boring stuff, really. Mostly matters of disputed jurisdictions and the like. Anyhow, the characteristics I was given in diplomacy turned out to be something of a snafu. You see, skills in negotiation necessitate the ability to think in a certain sort of dynamic projection. You know, understanding the other fellow's viewpoint and so on."
"I think I should go and lie down now," Jesse muttered absently, and then turned about, vaguely seeking the comfort of his makeshift hospice as the dishearteningly familiar feeling of having missed yet another diagnostic mark rapidly drained what remained of his previous enthusiasm.
"SIT DOWN!" roared the Rabbit with a resonance that continued to echo in Jesse's mind for several moments subsequent to his almost urgent compliance: said obedience punctuated by a small puff of dust as he immediately plopped down.
"Now, where was I?" asked the Rabbit rhetorically as he hopped about once again to face his reluctant audience, the tiny bells of his hat jingling loudly as he did so.
"Other fellow's viewpoint," replied Jesse absently."
"Ah, yes. Well, diplomacy gives way to freethinking, which in turn leads to free will. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I found myself on the other side of the fence, as it were. Do you follow?"
"Oh, sure," Jesse nodded, having no clue, but wishing not to aggravate the fluffy delirium further.
"Of course, this particular state of mind ended my employment, and very nearly my life. I won't go into all the unsavory details, but suffice it to say, I escaped by a hare's breadth," he tittered, in reference to the funny of his own making. He pressed on after noting Jesse's lack of notation.
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