Victor

  All right, we'd gotten past the gate - hardly the worst it could have gone, certainly. The first thing I wanted to do was grab a bite to eat and the others were of the same mind. The gate opened into a wide street lined with two-story buildings, many of which had signs that clued me in to the fact that they were businesses. I noticed that most of the roofs were made of green wooden shingles which made each building give off the impression of a tree - nice touch!

  I hadn’t walked twenty paces before I suddenly felt the hairs on the back of my neck stick up; I turned my head sharply to the right. There were three darkborn women wearing silky garments that left little to the imagination standing under the awning of a shoe shop. When I turned back I saw that Mal was looking to the left and a bit behind us where two more darkborn ladies were sitting at a table together. Sensing danger, I had the princess walk in between Mal and I. We were only a few more doors down when it happened again: once again I felt a slight chill, turned towards where my good ol’ situational awareness was tellin’ me to look only to find that there was nothing but a pack of four dark elf women just chilling as far as I could tell. Still, something was bothering me.

  “Hey Mal,” I said, “you ever get the feeling like you’re being watched?”

  Mal grinned, “why, all the time, I am an actor you know,” he laughed. “But, I assume you are referring to our present situation. Let me assure you old boy, that we are indeed being watched: specifically you and I - her highness less so.”

  “Huh?”

  The princess said, blushing, “Um…I am afraid those women were looking at you and Malcolm most lasciviously, Sir Victor.”

  “Oh,” I scratched my head, “wait, what? Why?

  Mal spun around with his arms spread in presentation. “Look around, tell me what you see!”

  I took a good look around us. There were darkborn going about their business on the street as well as many who were just chattering together in small groups. There was a pair of little girls running across the street with wooden practice swords, nearly causing another woman to nearly drop the basket of biscuits she was carrying. A pair of guards patrolled past us, both women wearing steel breastplate armor and carrying long spears. Two women dressed in fancy high-collared robes sauntered out of an herbalist boutique, and another younger gal stumbled out of a bowyer’s shop awkwardly carrying several bundles of arrows.

  Wait a sec.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen a single man since we met Dach Mora.”

  Mal scratched his chin and said, “There you go! Now we come to the heart of the matter, or rather, the matter of the heart! Darkborn elves have a particular peculiarity and that is that the birth of a male child is exceedingly rare to the point where every one of their settlements is anywhere between eighty to ninety percent women at the end. That is why they practice polygamy, for otherwise their population would surely collapse. Most darkborn gentlemen have two or three wives while more rich, magically talented, or physically strong fellows could have ten or more, but the leaders of the great clans have dozens!” He performed a quick pirouette, and raised a finger to the sky “But even a Dach has limits! As such, there are at any given time dozens of darkborn damsels dreadfully devoid of darlings! These women are quite thirsty and you, sir, are a rather tall drink of water - in such a desert, why, even I must look like a tempting morsel myself!”

  I scratched my head and said, “Well don’t that just beat all…so I take it that most of the warriors and hunters must be women too then.”

  Mal said, “Yes, actually. But most of the men folk are fighters, too. In fact a darkborn male will often lead groups of his own wives on hunting expeditions or even into actual battle. They stand together, they bleed together, growing ever closer as they engage in hot-blooded melee!”

  “Pairbonding by combat, is it?”

  The princess did that Ema thing again and said, “Huh, when you put it that way it actually sounds somewhat romantic,” she frowned, “I just wish they’d stop being so mean to me!”

  “Hey don’t worry, as long as you got us blocking their view they won’t be able to mess with ya!”

  That made her smile a little, and she said, “Come, I have had naught to eat today save for a nibble of hardtack a few hours ago! I think I see an inn up ahead!”

  Sure enough there it was with a big sign: The Last Bough. This was the biggest building we’d seen so far, being two stories high and shaped like a squat capital I - er - in a serif font. We entered through a simple but well-crafted wooden door and the aroma of what I hoped was some sort of stew wafted up my nostrils and threatened to start pulling me deeper. Lodging and food for three were paid for in short order. Once we’d found our room the three of us unslung out packs and breathed a heavy sigh of relief as we sat down; it was a feeling familiar to me as a seasoned traveller. We didn’t bother to take our equipment off; nope, too hungry - we just did our best impression of John Bunyan’s

  Pilgrim and headed to the commons.

  Rather than large wooden tables with chairs, there were small circular tables just a foot or so off the ground and cushions piled up. Our waitress brought us each a flagon of some berry-based alcoholic drink which wasn’t bad, and a few minutes later the food came. Three wooden bowls of steaming hot stew, and some dark bread. The stew consisted of a thick light brown broth which may have had a little bit of creme or milk in it, three different types of mushroom, onion, two different sorts of cubed root vegetable.

  The bread was almost certainly a variety of rye, ah, I think Valyrian had mentioned something about rye whiskey back then so it made sense that there’d be bread made from it too.

  I inquired, “do you grow these things here?”

  The waitress nodded, “Mostly. Mushrooms are our chief crop and our main export, but onions and rye grain need to be imported. The carrots and burdock are also grown here, along with the herbs we use.”

  I fished out the large leaf in my bowl, I knew what this was, but I had to ask, “And what do you call this?”

  “Yanny,” said the waitress.

  I grinned, thanked her kindly, and went back to eating. Man that was actually pretty good - very herby and thick with a lot of interesting flavors that I can’t even name. Our significant appetites sated for the moment, we decided to walk around town a bit more. Naturally, we needed to make a few purchases - especially at the bowyer’s and the herbalist’s - and we still had to find our temporary fourth party member. While doing a little bit of shopping and sightseeing was enjoyable, asking around about adventurers didn't bear any fruit at all. Oh we had a few takers - three dark elf adventuresses, or so I thought, until Mal and the princess examined their iron guild chips.

  Stolen story; please report.

  "It's a fake," said the princess, "as a matter of fact, all three of them are fakes."

  The three extremely voluptuous darkborn ladies gulped, a tacit admission of guilt!

  Mal laughed, "an amateurish attempt at deception. Did you really think that a paltry amount of transmutation magic could fool a trained eye? But why even attempt such a foolish thing that could land you in hot water in the first place?'"

  He pirouetted, assumed a thinking pose with a hand cradling his chin for a moment, and snapped his fingers. "Ah, I see, you're husband hunting and since the pickings of gentlemen are slim here you pretend to be registered adventurers so that you can trick parties featuring handsome men into taking you on!"

  I agreed with his conclusion, and the ladies blanched, a classic "crap he's onto us" reaction.

  "This just isn't fair," cried one with ashen hair.

  "Please! Take us with you!" said the sooty-haired one.

  "We can satisfy all of your needs," said the one with black hair, "unlike that flatborn!"

  "Ladies, ladies, we aren't even lookin' for that kind of-" wait, did she say FLATBORN?

  I glared at them, they went silent, and we moved on. I grumbled at the unadulterated nerve they had. Though it was going to be the most expensive option, it seemed like we had no choice but to ask that Dach Karth feller, so we made our way to his estate.

  Charlean

  I am Charlean Darkbeast, one of Dach Karth's eighty wives and one of his best warriors - of course I'm bragging, why wouldn't I? I am lethal grace, given form! There are no others within this village, or in the realms of men, or in the kingdoms of the flatborn beyond! Huh? What do you mean what about Valyrian? Compare me not to that braggart, I could take him in a fight, and I could do so unarmed too! Yes, in addition to the sword and shield, I am also the best brawler in the entire village of Ara Lahee, if not the world; I'll take on all comers!

  While I was patrolling the yard today, not for any particular reason apart from wanting to move around, I saw three strangers at the gate. A human, no, two humans, both men, one confident, the other dejected, and a flatborn girl. Fie upon them. What business could a rabble such as this have with my dear master? They were talking to the gate guards, Sootrielle and Dunnissa, my fellow wives. Of course I could hear them, you clod! These ears do more than frame my beautiful face!

  Sootrielle spotted me and called out, "Char, bring these three to the master - he knows they are coming."

  Upon turning to face me, the man with the strange coat and brightly colored brigandine armor cried out something strange. Huh? What the fat-devil did he mean by that? What is a "rule 63 Zechs Merquise", why would it be holy, and who is Batman?

  Ha, brigandine with mail underneath. Everyone knows breastplate is superior, what a fool! I nodded, and motioned them to follow me. At the coat room I took their weapons and dropped them behind the desk, what do you mean careless? Of course I don't care.

  The human with the long coat seemed especially touchy about anyone else touching his two "firearms", those things that didn't look very threatening, and insisted he lay them down himself. Big deal. The other two didn't hesitate, though. I snatched their weapons straight from their hands. Useless skinny thin bladed swords!

  They left their cloaks with their weapons, and I smirked; the lack of a cloak made the flatborn girl's inferiority more readily apparent - yes, mine were twice as large, and rounder besides. Ho, ho, ho, ho! I wanted to burst out laughing, but, the master would be angry, I think, if I mocked his guests.

  Now that I'd gotten a closer look at that brigandine armor I saw it had a three-toned design of stars and stripes. Huh? Oh well, no matter. He took his armor off too, anyway. I asked one of my sisters where she had seen the master last, she said that he had been in the dining room - and so that is where we went. It was a large dining room big enough for the master and thirty of us to eat together. We had a weekly rotation system to determine who would be eating with him and at what time; the same was true for sleeping arrangements, for only eight of us could fit on Master's bed at a time comfortably.

  Dach Karth was a handsome man, strong and agile, his silver-gray hair was soft and pleasant to the touch even though his hairstyle made him look like a hedgehog. He was sipping from some Hylarian wine, and wearing some of his best finery. Describe it? It's just a normal darkborn outfit, how should I know how to - ugh. It was a silk doublet, black with gold trim and a high collar that was a little taller than his own head. The men bowed, the flatborn curtsied, and they made introductions.

  "Well met," master said, "my friend Mora tells me that you have a business proposition for me."

  The flatborn said, "yes, we are Red Lightning, we have a copper-rank quest that we shan't be able to complete, officially at least, if we fail to acquire a temporary fourth member."

  "Hmm, I see, I see, we do attract quite a few parties seeking the same. But shouldn't your party leader be the one speaking?" Master said, echoing my thought, how could she be party leader?

  The flatborn shook her head, "he isn't very good at speaking common or elvish yet, unfortunately."

  The master nodded, "very well I understand. As long as the coin is good, I see no reason why we can't simply get down to business."

  Why did the stranger whistle five musical notes, and why did the flatborn poke him in the ribs? Whatever. They sat down and began to talk, the flatborn reached out and - Gah! How dare you touch my master's face with your flat-chested hand and cast a spell on him! Master wait, why are you pointing at me- the flatborn got me too.

  Damn.

  They talked a lot of big words, talking about treasure shares and fees. I was already bored and more than a little hungry. The nature of the quest sounded interesting, raid a cult base - what? A wicked cult in our forest, and not the fun sort, where they get naked together? Unbelievable! Then Master said something shocking - unbelievable even!

  "Looks like we're done here," he smiled, "the matter of pay is settled, the contract is ready to be signed, now as to whom we could call upon," he considered carefully, "you lack for a heavily armored warrior, and you are going somewhere somewhat dangerous so you shall require someone rather strong and skilled, plus you'd need a guide with excellent knowledge of the land," he snapped his fingers, eyebrows rising as though a light had gone off in his head, "I've got it! Take my wife, please!"

  Why was he indicating to me with that palm-up gesture? Wait. No. Surely not.

  "M-me?" I stammered, "surely these men are not worthy to protect me, to fight beside me-"

  Master said, "you would be protecting them, actually, according to their own accounting of their skills."

  The square-jawed man said, "not gonna stop me from trying to do some protectin' in turn; call it a creed, something to live by."

  Of course the flatborn's eyes would sparkle - such a useless ability and I ain't jealous of the damn flatborn for havin' it! Not one bit! Darkborn elves are the best elves and I won't hear anyone claim otherwise.

  "This would hardly be your first time, either, my dear blade," said Master, "you are, after all, an iron-ranked adventuress yourself."

  True but I usually formed parties with my sisters, with groups of four to five of my fellow wives. I won't deny I enjoyed time away from home, to gossip with my sisters about our dear Dach's various quirks and foibles and then we'd get into little spats about who takes care of him the best. The wrestling matches that led to cuddling by the fire.

  My Dach loved to send us out on quests to help the village make sufficient coin to buy supplies that were hard to come by, and we loved to be his lionesses. Then there's the clothes from foreign parts we could try on when we got home!

  Even so, I burst out, "but master look at them! A dandy and a clown, surely-"

  The dandy wasn't sure how to respond but the clown said, "former court jester actually," in perfect elvish.

  Master sighed, "if you think them unworthy, then let us put it to the test. Mister Kirkland, was it, would you do us the honor of a demonstration of your talents? See if you can best Charlean in unarmed combat."

  The Kirkland said, "if that's what it takes to get this deal done, then yeah, an exhibition match it is." He seemed pensive, hesitant, ha, the coward is all bluster isn't he. "Sorry gramps," he muttered.

  I cried, "fine, challenge accepted, human! We fight! No rules, only rough!"

  I removed my armor, leaving only my breeches and my chestwrap - flatborn wishes she needed this much muslin to hold back her breasts, no doubt! The Kirkland had also stripped down, having removed his shirt, and his hat, handing both to the flatborn. Now that I got a good look at him he actually seemed to have a fair amount of muscle on him, well at least he wasn't a beanpole. I still thought he wouldn't even stand a chance.

  Master bade us begin the match and I leaped forward, preparing to kick him, huh? But he sidestepped me and struck twice from behind! How did he- I tried again, a wide punch, which he ducked under and followed up with two swift punches of his own. Guh. He dodged my uppercut too, then stepped to the side again, and struck me in the ribs a second and third time! Why do you dodge instead of taking the hit like a man, coward! Every time I thought I had him he would get out of my way and unleash a series of rapid attacks - punches, kicks, other forms of attack. Before I knew it, I was flat on the ground, and I saw no more.

  That is how I, Charlean Darkbeast, temporarily, joined an adventuring party known as Red Lightning.

  Fuck.