GOBLIN WITH A GUN

Wetland Pixies

The sun is up in a bright blue sky, but it sure didn't seem like it. The big fireball was doing nothing to peel back the layer of frost which had taken over Jok. The stone work made a pasty grey by the film of white. Breath was visible on those brazen enough to be going without face coverings. All that to stay the glare Fianna was giving Mason was still far colder than the darkest corner of Jok.

"Howdy, Mason" after getting used to being called a 'donkey' it was more unsettling to hear his actual name. Masons back was aching from the nights rest in a local bunkhouse, it was felt warmer in the guild hall but he had to much pride to pass out on a table like a drunk, especially with his cut of the wyvern hunt hr couldn't bring himself to scrounge for warmth. Mason had been earning more back in the old world with swordplay competitions alone, but he just wrote that off as the dream job tax.

"Hi." To say mason was experiencing a crisis of self from having a goblin as his equal was barely an overstatement. His body still ached from yesterdays events, he had been to tired to clean the blood of his clothes or face so on top of the poor sleep, Mason was looking worse than he was after the duel. Fianna picked up a heavy bag and slung it over one shoulder, the weight causes him to flip over himself landing with the bag still at his feet.

"you can carry the bag. it should be lighter than a wyvern's head" Fianna let go off the burlap sack, It was half as tall as the goblin and weight about the same. Mason slung the bag over a shoulder with one hand.

"what's in this?" Mason asked, pressing his hand into one side made the powdery contents give way to the pressure.

"salt" Fianna said with no further explanation. He took a barbed javelin of his table and set off out the door. Mason kept pace with him despite the extra weight. Walking down the cobbles of Jok they are subject to the faceless tides of people passing through, it was hardly a big city in comparison to some capitals, but it was still more people than Fianna liked. Despite being small creatures humanoids always took far more than they need from the environment, breaking it in the process. He didn't wish to learn how many people Nova Drangey could support before breaking. Even now the scars are visible, Jok spreading out like a tumour from the island's most southern port. Mason looked at the buildings either side of the wide cobbled street. It was incomparable to the city he was born in back in the old world, the streets there were narrow and stacked upon themselves in winding corridor of tall buildings which seemed purpose built to crumble. Streets flowing with dirt and human waste. The nicest parts of his home city were the cathedrals, but they served such little purpose in his mind for receiving so much time and effort in their upkeep. The buildings of Jok were akin to neither squalor nor splendour. they had grime and were real, but still were crafted by capable hands, some finer than others, but all to a certain standard of masonry and materials that reminded him of how he pictured the legendary cities were great kings rest awaiting a time of greatest need. To say he loved it here would undersell how the very brick, and swinging sign of Jok had exceeded his expectations. It was very easy for him to forget about the shithole part of town he had spent the night in.

"what's the salt for" it took some time, but mason eventually got a hold of his rubbernecking like a starstruck child, getting back to being confused and annoyed. "and where did you get so much" Fianna spat to clear the phlegm from his throat. sleep deprivation does gross things to the body.

"the guild keeps salt to preserve food and meat"

"is meat not food?"

"some meats are seen as inedible" Fianna clarified, and Mason decide he didn't want to know any more on that matter. "we're dealing with wetland pixies" Fianna's ability to over assume the commonality of niche monster information is impressive, but Mason knew getting just the important info without a lecture on ecology would be a delicate matter. He chose his words carefully.