“It smells terrible in here,” Valandil muttered as they entered the Spluttering Pixie.
“I’m sure you’ll get use to it,” offered Quoorin, but even he had his nose crinkled. Thereriss hid away in Valandil’s quiver as if trying to avoid it herself. Felicia did not smell anything off about it; the smell reminded her of the slums.
“Why don’t we go ask the barkeep if he’s seen our friends?” Valandil suggested, “Sometimes I hate the idea of heightened senses.”
The three of them made their way to the bar where a large, muscular man stood wiping down the wood counter. Two of the four bar stools were occupied by drunkards with mugs in their hands. Five sets of wood tables and chairs sat behind them. The room was lit by flickering lanterns now that only moonlight shone through the windows. Besides the three of them, only the two on the stools and the barkeep were in the Spluttering Pixie.
“What can I get ya?” The barkeep asked, stopping the circular motion with the cloth.
“We’re looking for some friends who we’re supposed to be meeting,” Quoorin replied. “I believe a messenger was sent ahead to rent a room in the back.”
“Aye,” he replied. The barkeeper pulled a key from his pocket and placed it on the counter. “Your friends aren’t here, but the key is yours. Just that door there.”
“Thank you,” Quoorin nodded, taking the key.
The room reeked as well by the looks on Quoorin’s and Valandil’s faces. A round table sat in the centre of the room. Ten chairs were placed around it, and as single lantern sat in the middle. Valandil shut the door behind them and sat at the table. He removed his cape, quiver and elegant, green bow, that looked like it was made of glass, to place them gently on the floor. Quoorin did similar by removing the sheathed sword from his belt and resting it against his chair across from Valandil. Thereriss climbed out of the quiver and fluttered up to the table.
“Have a seat Felicia,” Quoorin encouraged. “You’re with us now.”
Without a word Felicia gingerly sat in the chair closest to the door. Her hands lay clasped in her lap and her eyes locked on the fairy sitting in front of the lantern. When she shifted in her seat, Felicia felt the dagger hit against her. Pulling it out, she handed it to Quoorin.
“Here’s your dagger back,” she said. Quoorin held up a hand and smiled.
“Keep it,” he replied. “I have another, and you might need it.”
“Are you sure?” Felicia wondered, slowly taking it back.
“Aye,” Quoorin nodded.
“We shall eventually fit you with your own personal armor and weapons,” added Valandil. “For now you shall have to make do with that dagger. As for clothing, I’m sure we can find a seamstress so you’re not wearing a potato sack.”
“You don’t have to spend money on me,” Felicia affirmed. “I can make do with what I have.”
“I won’t wander around with you looking like a common human,” replied Valandil.
“Pompous elf,” mumbled Thereriss.
“Stubborn fairy,” Valandil countered.
“Magic-less pixie!” Thereriss shouted.
“Annoying fly,” Valandil retorted.
“Please, you two,” Quoorin interjected. “You can bicker later. For now, represent your homes as they would you want to.”
“Are you representing your home?” Felicia asked, “The anthro I mean.”
“Not entirely,” chuckled Quoorin. “I deal with some matters of the anthro, but the thing is anthro don’t live in one collected area. Most prefer locations their animal traits are meant for, so we don’t have built villages for the most part. Anthro like myself, more human than animal, tend to live with elves.”
YOU ARE READING
Champion
FantasyFelicia, a sixteen year old elven girl, has grown up in the city slums for most of her life. She has no idea what it's like to be an actual elf. One day, she runs into two travellers, one of which is sent to be executed with her, who change her life...
