A Terra Tale: A Trip to the Mohrg

Chapter Five: Trolling

"I did not need an unstable relationship to teach me about the evils of broken promises. I had parents for that."

-Michelle Franklin

The hills leading down into the Halmus Valley of Aasinorium were idyllic during the early autumn. All would agree. Craggy slopes, overgrown with flowering ivy and thick patches of Slumberweed overgrown beneath thick, gnarled oak trees that cast shade for all to enjoy. The road leading in to the small mining town of Crawford was wide enough for two wagons to be pulled abreast and made from old flagstone blocks laid side by side.

Normally, the valley would be devoid of noise, no cries of merchants or shouting of laborers. No ringing of a smithy, nor click of picks either. The only thing one could hear, if one strained their senses, would be the rustle of wind through the dried orange leaves within the trees, or the soft chirping of distant birds.

That would be what one would normally hear.

Today, all one could hear was the raucous laughter of several men and women, choking snorts and baying cackles.

Wandering down the road, Heidigger shook his head as he tilted his head back, grinning as he pressed his newest comrade for details. "Ah, come on then, ya can't be leavin' us all in the dark about yer little date!"

"I find it odd you're so insistent on this, you whiskey-soaked hairball," Faelyn sighed, flipping through a book that hovered before him as he walked. "Madam Fiona was a charming personality, and I quite enjoyed dinner with her."

"There is no way that is true," Miro accused, walking in the rear of their group, Fen walking smoothly at his side in silence. "That hag has cornered me at least three times, and she does not take no for an answer."

"She never pressured me for anything to where a no would have been necessary," Faelyn replied, licking his finger to better grip the corner of his text. "I approached her as you asked, offered her a taste from a bottle of Darkholm Select I've kept for special occasions, and we discussed divergent transmutive theories to shift from endothermic to exothermic fauna."

"... I forgot how you purebloods love your five gold words," Alma grumbled as she walked alongside Heidigger, earning a gentle elbow from the dwarf. "Er, sounds fascinating?"

"I wouldn't have assumed you would care for such discussions, dear half breed, thus why I have yet to approach you with them." Faelyn said, looking up to glance at the back of Alma's head. "I mean, you're more of a mechanical engineer, rather than a mystic one."

Alma hesitated, glancing back to look at Faelyn's steady gaze. "I suppose...?"

"I daresay, was that respect I was hearin' in yer tone there, knife ears?" Heidigger gasped in exaggerated astonishment. "Tis surely the beginning of the Last Cycle, if ever there was a reason to think the world would end! And by Odin's beard, an elf being polite is such a reason to fear!"

"You exaggerate, my dear slab nose," Faelyn soothed, glaring slightly as Clicky gave a few rattling chuckles at his side, "all of my kin are polite, even stabbing someone in the back, we observe proper etiquette."

Miro snorted. "What the fuck do you mean by that?" He elbowed Fen, who continued his morning prayers uninterrupted, eyes closed as he walked. "What kind of etiquette is there for stabbing someone in the back?"

Faelyn turned away from his book to look back at Miro, his normally stoic mask broken as his face showed genuine distaste. "I figured you a heathen, sir, but I was unaware you were impolite. Does your failing sun god not teach proper respect, sharpening a well-made blade rather than some two-silver trash? The proper poisons to numb as they kill? However do you attempt assassinations in your backwater hole of a country?"