DSSC: Don't Be One Of Them

Everyone's a Critic

This tale begins on a dark and dreary night, in the mud-paved streets of a small and wretched trade town on the outskirts of the great Elven Kingdom of Donalue; my horribly missed home. I quickly flipped the hood of my Elven Silver-woven cloak and hurried through the bustling streets of carriages and mules as the clouds opened and drained their wrath upon the lands. I quickly dove for cover under the awning of a local inn as a horse-drawn carriage driven by a mad human burst through the traffic seemingly uncaring of the danger he caused as though the lives he threated were trivial to his punctuality. I hate humans.

"The Bloody Hoof," was the name of the inn I stumbled into – probably named for the tavern on the first floor, busy with the clamor of drunken splendor. I might have thought the building owned by an Orc, if not for the scruffy, eye-patched human hardly minding the counter. The grotesque name didn't surprise me however; Humans are the next most savage creatures next to Orcs. Dwarves in my book run a very close third – if it weren't for their masterful skills of invention, they might as well be shorter and cleaner Orcs.

The tavern floor was busier than the streets, packed to the brim with activity, and the smell of fermented barley, hot flames spewing embers upon the hearth, and the combined putrid odors of men of every race. Dwarves with ale foaming from their lips danced upon the counters, the cues of thought missing from their brows. Orcs gambled in a corner, a particularly brutish one readied a dagger as he glared at another who was missing half an ear and an eye whom I presume was probably a career cheater. Humans filled the bulk of the remainder of the floor, save for a small space set aside for performing fairies. But looking more carefully past the "Gold buys Miracles" sign posted at their stall, I could clearly see they were not fairies at all, but pixies; devious little magical creatures who prey on the gullible. Quite a haul I imagine, as the line stretched the small end of the inn, made up of beaten, weary, and hopeless humans. More hopeless than they knew, for few humans could tell the difference between a fairy and a pixie – and I felt no pity for their ignorance.

Regardless, the sun had set and the inn seemed to prove safer than the streets. And though my journey had been long, I felt wearier for drink than sleep. I pressed through towards the counter and the one-eyed man who stared intently on me as I made my way to him. I found an empty stool, only a foot away from a dwarf sitting at a nearby table fixated on his parchment. No doubt a workaholic frantically scribbling plans for some fancy over-the top contraption. It was only one, so I felt the presence and musk tolerable.

"What will you have?" the scruffy innkeeper inquired with a tired and gruff tone.

"Do you have an Allurian Sweet Tonic?" I pleasantly hoped.

My favorite drink, made from the crystal clear spring water of the magical fairy city of Allura using only the finest and sweetest fruits with only the hint of taste of alcohol.

"I uh... haven't heard of that one." The innkeeper admitted sheepishly.

"Very well." I scoffed, "Get me something comparable."

I looked around the worn, wooden enclosure and had a grave thought.

"Or at least, the finest Elven-worthy drink I pray you have. If I am to die after tonight, gods be dammed if my last drink is something foul." I finished.

The man nodded and grunted distastefully, and then turned to scan his bottles with extra scrutiny, his one eye zipping up and down, back and forth. My mind turned to the task ahead of me. A journey as terrifying as they come, with the consequence of failure as high as could be. The water source of the Palace of the prestigious Elven Kingdom of Donalue had been tainted. The townspeople had grown sick, many lay dying in the streets. Potions made with the water had developed adverse effects, such as a teleportation tonic turning one poor soul inside out. Apparently one could not live that way. Conventional magic only seemed to rebound on the caster; purifying themselves to such a degree that water was all they left behind. That being said, the Palace is operating on only a very small supply of clean water.