By the time they figure out what went wrong, we'll be sitting on a beach earning...

((Contains mature language. Closed to Finsou Von Fishsiris and Storm Motheroftruth))

“Will this dining room be to your liking, Master Breaker?” The Lyridian innkeeper rubbed her palms together nervously and tugged at a loose thread splintering from her otherwise neat sifan blouse. Even in the floating city above Lornius proper where the wealthiest xenophobes lived, it was rare for an innkeeper to make good enough coin to afford sifan. Josh had selected The Russet Apple for that exact reason. He hadn’t seen his friend Shinsou Vaan Osiris in some time, and wanted them to enjoy a good, peaceful meal together with no hijinks or tomfoolery, or Thayneslaying or syndicate dismantling. Just a nice hot meal with some top-shelf whisky and good conversation.

“Hmm,” Breaker said, pacing around the room, his metal boots ringing on the polished wood floor. He examined the intricately carved and sanded tables and chairs, sniffed at the artwork on the wall depicting flowers and landscapes, and ran a finger along the mantle as if checking for dust.

“This will suffice,” he said at last, “but only for half of your regular asking price. I’m only having one guest, after all, hardly a full party. And you didn’t exactly break your back cleaning the place.” He rubbed his finger and thumb together as if scattering dust. “Besides, I’d think that my patronage would be a boon in itself. How often does a Thayneslayer grace one of your tables?”

The innkeeper took a deep breath that swelled her already generous bosom. She smoothed her sifan shirt over a slightly rotund belly and nodded nervously.

“It is certainly an honor to have you and Vaan Osiris grace our tables. Very well, I accept your offer, on the condition that when you return to experience our excellent service again, you will pay full price. And that you’ll tell all your well-to-do friends that The Russet Apple is the finest establishment in all of Lornius.”

“You have my word,” Josh said, a twinkle shining in his eyes. The red embers of a dying sun limped through the beige shade on the window, coloring the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks. “Please send Shinsou up here when he arrives. In the meantime… I’ll take a glass of Yurik’s Firewhisky, over ice please. And… what was that special appetizer I saw listed on the menu?”

“Mushrooms on the half-cap, sir. We just got a shipment of fresh shrooms from Dheathain, and battered and fried they make for quite an amuse-bouche. Shall I send up an order?”

“Make it two,” Josh said, “I’m feeling peckish.” The demigod turned to look out the second story window at the setting sun. He could not wait to relax in the ambience of good company and conversation.

Lornius was a brutal place; the last time Storm had been through town left him badly wounded but much richer for the journey. In this little trip, he itched for the simplicity of exploiting two elements of the town left altogether unexplored in his last venture: free cash and good smokes. He would need to earn quite a bit of coin to cover the journey from the mainland to the sky-city, but it felt like cash was poured so freely here that a penny-wise grifter could retire in weeks. These people had power, cash, and very little attention to detail.

As Attila was tied taut to a thick bench post in the front of the large stone-laid inn, Storm glanced up at the thatch roof and smiled as he ripped in the odor of stew pouring from the window. Fresh, thick stew maid from new, healthy animals was as hearty and warming as food got, and the wizard opened the door with an eager toe, smiling at the bell-chime above the door.

If you're going to float a city, maybe ship in some varied woods first?

The bar at the base floor at the inn was covered from floor to ceiling in paneling, a mid-range teak color that was well-knotted and altogether depressing. The tabletops, stools, and benches also adorned a similar woodgrain, which cloyed the mage before he could grab a seat at the bar. A bright eyed little bald man quickly swung by, a friendly greeting and short conversation which ended with a healthy glass of mead poured into a mug over a single large cube of ice.

Can't beat a cold drink, I suppose. Where's the smoke-man in here? Can a man get some leaves in this joint?!

As if on command, a very thin man at the edge of the bar sauntered over, brandishing a large and wholly suspicious smile. Storm had traveled long and wasn't game for much of the trivialities.

"You carry tobacco? Just came up into town and your customs folk seized all my leaves. Trust me when i tell you this city doesn't want my fingers getting twitchy."

Patently ignorant to what critical information he had just heard, the slender salesman pushed forward.

"Tobacco, oak clove, devil's breath and wiggle-leaf. Has to stay in town, and keep the kids away. Hell, we even sample for travelers; what town did you say you were from?"

"I didn't." Storm eyed the suspicious fellow unflinchingly, very unsure of his boldness. "But it's Radasanth. Shit-hole of milk and honey, as they call it. Never heard of your exotics down there, but I AM an adventurer. What's the 'wiggle leaf' all about?"

The frail distributor put an arm around the shoulders of the wizard, entirely blind to the risks he chose to assume. Uncomfortable, Storm felt his spine straighten as he locked in on the chatty stranger. Was this a trap?

"It's a wiggle on your tongue, and a wiggle for the mind. Delicious, smooth, and the ride is worth the price of admission. Take a pinch; it's twenty crowns for a cube if you like it."

The gypsy dropped some of the dark green leaves into Storm's palm, the electromancer noticing immediately the oily texture of the jagged-edged leaves. This was a bizarre plant, something he decided it unwise to trust but too interesting to ignore. An appreciative smile was joined with a leering stare as he chased off the dealer, pushing the leaves into a small burlap pocket that Lornian customs had seen fit to free of his precious tobacco.

Fantasizing of his pending adventure, Storm's eyes were tripped by the wave of high-chest meat that floated down the stairs from the top floor, surrounded totally by what appeared to be a wealthy woman.

No Thaynes.

No cults.

Not a criminal syndicate in sight.

It was a rather odd situation to be in, but today, on Shinsou Vaan Osiris's orders, the Brotherhood's priorities had switched from developing and nurturing the power of its military junta to clearing out what appeared to be a sudden feline pandemic.

The fuckers were everywhere. Shinsou had woken up, still hung over from the night before, to find his quarters brimming with all types of bastard varieties of cats. Salvic forest ragdolls, Coronian shorthairs and even Raiaeran blues meandered around the marble tiles of his room like they owned the place.

"What the fuck is this?"

Arius, Shinsou's right hand man and usually the man with all the answers, must of been eavesdropping through the door. As he turned the handle and crept the oaken door slightly ajar, a scuffle ensued between a fat ginger Alerarian lesser spotted domino cat and a rather peturbed Coronian shorthair.

"Morning. Yeah, cats. Cats everywhere. That small issue aside..." The scholarly man continued with almost no explanation of the current situation at hand forthcoming, "...don't forget you have a date with Joshua Cronen in Lornius."

"Don't call it that." Shinsou retorted, scruffing a Radasanthian tomcat and relieving it of its position on his amazingly clean white greatcoat. "Are we going by portal? I'd love to stay and help sort this cat thing out but, actually, I'd rather have type two diabetes, you know."

"Oh, sure thing. How else were you expecting to get to Lornius in an hour from Corone?" Ariud raised an eyebrow.

"I dunno. Liquid time?" Shinsou jested, referencing pages from Arius's studies about the physics of the time space continuum. He grimaced as a Etherian scrufflekitty tried to claw its way up the new silk curtains.

"Oh shut up." With a snap of his fingers, Arius opened a portal that tore the room a new arsehole. Thirteen small felines tried to swat at the thin blue membrane as it pulsed and rippled, but to their astonishment they were sucked in, lost their footing and fell into the ether in which existed only a plethora of interdimensional gateways leading to other worlds made entirely of ham.

Do you know the indignities of gargling orc piss? Do you REALLY know the indignities of gargling orc piss? Do you know how it swills around in your mouth, filling the gaps between every tooth? Do you know the foul stench as it dribbles down your face and in to your involuntarily awaiting lips? Do know the warmth it shares with your throat as you guzzle down that alcohol infused bladder juice?

Do you?

Nope? Me neither, but it made for an interesting dream last night. I must have drank some neat shit.

Imagine a bright sunny day, birds and flowers and stuff, you know? The air is that blissful temperature we all love so much, the kind that fourty-something mothers fantasize about whilst pushing the next carton of milk through the checkout. Yeah, that's right, that warmth, imaginary holiday warm, the good shit. The smell of honeysuckle in the air, a cool breeze washing over your pale ass bitch self as you close your eyes and fantasize in that moment that it will never end. This is perfection, your day can't be any better, even the laughter of children harks to happier times.

Bitch, please. Snap to reality. What did you think this was, a fucking chick flick? Get outta here.

Nope, last night was a dreary fucking Tuesday in some fucking forest like every other fucking day. The air smells of animal feces and is the lovely kind of water-laden bullshit that soaks your clothes though just because screw you, that's why. This is a realistic day in the life of a wandering elemental spirit (that was me in this dream) that has about as much of an idea of where he's going as a blind man in a fun house getting pelted in the face by protruding rubber clad foam pillars.

With this in mind, let's cut to the chase. I was bolting through the forest with some actual, genuine grace, practiced steps bounding me about from fallen tree trunk to moss covered rock with nary a foot misplaced. My light frame moved with utmost ease; my motions swift and precise.

That is, until they weren't, and I hook my foot under a heavy fallen branch, slamming face first in to a pile of wet mud.

With a groan, out I pop. Filthy dirt covered hands rise up in protest to wipe away a bunch of the slimy dirt in what can only be described as a frustrated tantrum. I was wet through, cold as a result and now had the complexion of a hungry hobo coming face-to-face with a chocolate fountain. Great. Fucking GREAT. After removing most of the slop from my features, I stand completely still, throwing my arms around willy nilly in what could only be compared to a hooker in the backseat of Storm Veritas's love wagon.

"Double post".

"What?" The Telgradian replied, confused.

"Look...double post." Arius repeated, jabbing a finger into the translucent liquid transporting them rapidly through the timespace continuum. Ahead of them, two wooden posts jutted out from the moss covered Lornian pavement, marking the entrance to the social quarter of the floating city.

"Oh."

"What's the matter?" Arius's eyes poured over the Telgradian, drinking in his mood.

"Oh, nothing." Shinsou snapped his finger in frustration. "Just thinking about cats again."

The last dying rays of crimson light faded over the distant horizon the floating city’s altitude provided. Josh watched through The Russet Apple’s translucent curtains, sipping scotch and nibbling on fried mushrooms. They had an earthy flavor that went well with the ricemeal breading and the smoky motes in the whisky. The demigod’s eyes saw far and deep, and his ears sought out even the faintest noises in the furthest reaches of the inn. He had long since grown used to this constant awareness, and it did not only extend to his ordinary senses. He could, for example, easily pinpoint the fire-mage sitting at the bar downstairs, as well as the fortune teller alone in a corner.

With such unrelenting knowledge came massive responsibility. If he so desired, Josh could have blackmailed half the people in the building, having overheard theirs secrets. The man fucking the whore in the privy liked to remind himself, rather loudly, that the woman he ploughed was not his wife. The head server was stealing from the float of tips regularly, but in truth she probably deserved the coin for the long hours she put in. Breaker had long ago decided never to interfere unless he was protecting someone from bodily harm, enslavement, or loss of significant property. Fortunately he had sensed no danger that demanded his attention, and so he enjoyed the good food and drink, and the beautiful sun-swept view.

Little did he know, the Dheathic mushrooms contained a dormant psychoactive property which activated under extreme heat and was fat soluble. It had been cooked straight into the amuse-bouche.

As time wore on Breaker appeared to become restless. He paced, he leaped casually over the table and back again, he performed a one armed handstand - all while sipping his drink.

A server came in, a young man who started to say something and then gaped at the updside down demigod.

“Do you know how many one-armed handstand pushups I can do?” Josh asked.

The server studied the man before him and then ventured a guess. “A hundred?”

“That was a rhetorical question, I don’t know either. Only one way to find out!” Breaker set his drink on the floor and began exercising with military precision, pressing his entire body weight up and down using only his left arm. His right he tucked firmly behind his back. A growing smile washed his face as he breathed easily through his nose.

“I uh... “ the server stammered. “Can I get you anything? Your guests have yet to arrive.”

“Who said anything about guests?” Breaker asked without breaking rhythm. “It was just Shinsou. Is he bringing someone? Is there a message?”

“What?” The server cried. “N-no, sir, I just misspoke is all. I meant guest. He’ll be sent up as he arrives.”

“Good,” Josh said, continuing his press-ups, “he really should try these mushroom poppers. Send up another order. Hey!” He cried, bounding to his feet and crushing the nearly empty glass he’d left there. “How fast do you think I can run around the entire floating city? Start counting!” He tore out of the inn, leaving a man-shaped hole in the second-story external wall.

“Right,” the server said, “more mushrooms, more mushrooms…” he repeated to himself as he exited the room.

The Russet Apple was much more of a cliquey pub these days despite its reputation for being one of Lornius's more social establishments. Keen to keep the right kind of punters between the sticks for as long as possible, the landlord had spared no expense to do just that. Fine new furniture, a bandstand, shiny new brass oil lanterns, some actual entertainment and the best Lornian ales all formed part of the package a drinker in the Apple could expect to sign up to when they strode in from the cold.

It also differed in that the inn served as a place on could obtain slightly unorthadox cuisine.

An alert and vulnerable Arius looked on over Shinsou's shoulder as the Telgradian led him through the ground floor, past the an area known as the vault and then the main bar before turning left to go up the stairs. A burly looking bouncer, with hands the size of anvils, momentarily moved to block their passage but then seemed to recognise Osris’s face and stepped back.

"Joshua is waiting for you upstairs."

“Stay here,” Shinsou commanded his counterpart, "...and get very drunk."

There wasn’t much in the way of a protest from the man, so Shinsou closed and locked the door behind him as he left. The guard looked up the stairs at Osiris, who gave him a nod.

“What's the main course?”

“Dhethain Mushrooms".

Shinsou stared at him. "Awesome.”


***

Like a mountaineer negotiating a tricky outcrop, Shinsou sized up the Joshua shaped hole in the wall, worked out what he was going to say when he got back from whatever the fuck he was doing, composed himself and selected a mushroom from the steaming hot cuisine in front of him.

“Holy shit.” Shinsou hissed under his breath “That's got a kick."

"You here to join the other two fellas? Couple 'uh suspect gents, look right rip for buggery with the likes of you. I'm fucking #done with them." The buxom lady who had descended the stairs certainly had a certain hatred for discretion. Storm was put off by her homophobia, but forgave her for her enormous tits.

"Sorry to disappoint, sweetie, but I'm not the buggering type. Half-deer women, sure, but touch a man? Not my speed, sugar."

The talking boobs directed him upstairs, rolling her eyes as if she didn't believe him. Perhaps this inn was known to attract a more specific traveler. Veritas wasn't one for judgment regarding how people spent their free time, but he was also not one to stand idly and be judged.

Let's throw this judgy twat for a loop.

Pinching the special leaves into the cherrywood bowl of his pipe, Storm skipped up the stairs, embracing a stereotypical trope. At the corner landing to the top floor, he spun back to the endowed bitchy housekeeper. He then held the pipe to his lips, extending a middle finger from the off hand. A small white-blue arc popped from the end of his finger, igniting the leaves within the bowl. As the traveler continued up the stairs, he stumbled into the room.

Holy shit, what is this!?

The corners of Storm's vision began to blur as the two familiar faces popped into view. It was Shin, and Josh, or at the very least two forms that had taken on their form at the onset of his hallucination.

The first thing that hit him was the rich scent of fresh wood, which was a very delicious smell indeed. The room he had travelled to through the void of pure wisdom and true enlightenment was only about twelve foot squared but it was paneled in mahogany, furnished with ivory trinkets and finished with golden leaf detailing around the ceiling. A wooden table, on which a tray of refreshments was set, separated Shinsou from none other than Storm Veritas.

Storm Veritas. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be sorting out the cat problem?

Shinsou’s train of thought was interrupted by the wheezing of the other man sat opposite him, Joshua Cronen. Fuck knows at what point the man had got back, but now his demigod's figure seemed to be crammed between the back of the chair and a randomly manifested desk with very little room for manoeuvre. As the Telgradian almost heaved with the symptoms of his journey to true enlightenment, beads of perspiration formed on his rosy skin.

“Guys,” Shinsou said as he poured smelted gold from a jug on the table onto the floor, for no reason whatsoever, “I have a cat problem I need help with.”

It was easy to cut a strong figure whilst sober, but Shinsou could barely even stand up now. Eventually, he cleared his throat and composed himself. Almost instantly his brow relaxed, his eyes steeled and he suddenly made an announcement to the watching men.

“There are fucking cats everywhere. Why aren't you dealing with this shit, man?” Shinsou pointed a finger at Storm, his partner. "They were in my drawers and eating my fucking food".

“Did anyone get it?” Breaker asked as he arrived in the room, panting.

“Get what?” Shinsou asked.

“My time!” Josh said, shadow-boxing furiously. “I just ran around Lyridia!”

“You just - what?” The less familiar man turned from where he was studying a painting.

“This guy,” Breaker said, gesturing at Shinsou, “he’s complaining about cats. Wait until he starts seeing the rattlesnakes.” His sharp hazel eyes whipped back toward the salt and pepper sorcerer. “But I recognize you, Storm Veritas. From tales and shared memories. Strike me with one of your thunderbolts, and you’ll meet the true Breaker!”

“Can the true Breaker get me a fucking drink?” Storm demanded. Regardless of where they were previously, all three men were now sat down at the table together. Storm had a drink that had been brought by a server and Breaker had a fresh one since he’d broken his, and Shinsou had a foamy mug of ale which he preferred for some ungodly reason. “House best,” he called it.

“You squirrelly fucks might be actual squirrels!” Storm shouted. The herb had a powerful hold on him.

“Cats Storm, not squirrels,” Shinsou reminded his partner. Not that kind of partner. “We’re having a cat problem. Didn’t you slay a few felines when they attacked the shores near Gisela?”

“I understand what this is all about.” Breaker said suddenly, sitting upright in his chair. His hazel gaze flickered from one man to the other. “You want me to become a third leader of the Brotherhood, don’t you?”

The question hung in the air as the Castigar commanders considered the sudden proposal. Practically vibrating, Breaker popped another fried mushroom in his mouth and chewed patiently. And quickly. Very very beautifully quickly.

Within the tunnel of his vision, Shinsou began to speak in slow motion.

"Cats, you stupid ass. Need to CLEAN up the Cats!

What? I don't see any goddamned cats around here.

"You don't have any cats, there's only the floor-flame to worry about."

Joshua mentioned a thunderbolt unleashing his power; the power of the smoke bubbled around Storm's brain as he attempted to process the request. He held firm to the arms of the chair he had floated into, marveling at the squishiness of his fingertips as he pressed them into the underside of the wooden arms. Glancing down, the lacquer upon the hardwood continued to bubble and burn, an amazing observation when coupled with no one doing anything about it. Eyelids itchy, he rubbed at his temples as he considered firing a bolt of energy at the Breaker.

"We need to focus on what's real, and forget the goddamned cats, man. It's the f*cking fire that's going to kill us here, if we don't get up and out and hitch a ride out of town. I just need to know I can get out of here any time I want."

Storm stared at the flames about him, realizing with some embarrassment it was the polish that was melting and bubbling atop the wood, but probably not entirely aflame. Screw them, he considered. I may be wrong about the fire but there sure as shit aren't any f*cking cats.

Taking his drink, Storm tossed the mead atop the bubbling hardwood, watching the water splash harmlessly on the ground without slowing the spread of the blaze.

Gods almighty... it's magic flames.

Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the cats start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals. Little did Shinsou know it, but the party from the other night had served more than ale.

There was nothing more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an acid binge.

Was it five years ago with the cats? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least an era —the kind of peak that never comes again. Whitevale was a very special place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that Shinsou, Storm and Breaker were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time—and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

"Right," Shinsou determined, "Fuck the cats. Where's this floor lava you're so fucking girly about? Let's deal with that first. Actually, no. Let me tell you a story first, about that time in the future."

The two men momentarily paused before nodding their solemn agreement.

"My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights—or very early mornings—when I left the Silver Stocks half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed Slepnir and myself across Radasanth. I must have been travelling at a hundred miles an hour wearing shorts and a sheepherder's jacket."

There was madness in every direction. Whilst Shinsou rambled on about his event, there was a fantastic universal sense that whatever the three were doing was right, that they were winning.

And that, they believed, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of good and evil. Not in any military sense; they didn’t need that. Their energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting on any side. Shinsou, Storm and Breaker had all the momentum; they were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave.

“These mushroom poppers are delicious,” Josh said, smacking his lips. “Beautifully delicious. Hell, I’d say they’re beautifully gorgeously delicious.”

“But what do they taste like?” Storm inquired.

“Beautifulness!” Josh shouted. “Here, let me try some of that.” He grabbed the full pipe Storm had just finished packing using not the hand that he was fingers wrapped elegantly beautifully around the crystal glass he held in that hand. “Got a light?” He asked as he lifted the pipe to his lips.

The lightning mage sighed but leaned forward and complied, a spark leaping from his fingertip. It flew through a swirling miasma of colors and lit the bowl. Embers flared, and smoke eddied down the mouthpiece into Breaker’s lungs. His eyes bulged and he coughed like a horse with laryngitis. Actually, you know what, I’m just going to say it. He coughed like a bitch.

“Wow,” Breaker said as he returned the pipe to its owner, “it’s been awhile since I smoked anything that strong. Or since I smoked anything, for that matter.

“I once purchased a pound of Radasanthian Reefer behind a nightclub in Corone’s capital. It got me through the night, and hit all the right spots. I was smoking with this Alerian elf named Autumn, and damn she was as hot as Draconus’ breath. Wait, that didn’t sound like me. How would I say that? I know; her beauty made me burn like a dragon’s fire. There, that’ll set the ladies dripping like faulty faucets.”

Breaker paused in his monologue to take a drink and a breath. The other two men were not paying much attention, lost in their own worlds. Josh shrugged.

“Anyways, where was I? Oh that’s right, I remember. So I was smoking with this elf chick who was smoking in her own way, and she said she wanted me to come back to Alerar and marry her so she could move up in the succession line to the throne. Isn’t that crazy? I just wanted a little smoke, and I almost became a prince for it.” Josh paused for a moment, seeming to count in his head. “Is that three-fifty yet?” He asked no one in the room. It was.

Grabbing greedily at one of the mushrooms, Storm tried to posit what was going on around the three of them. Lornius was an odd place, but rampant cats, burning floorboards and prattling heroes were never part of its lore. Worse, Josh had pilfered his pipe, and by the time he took his second hit from the cherrywood bowl, the wizard noticed his smoke was gone.

Might as well fill the belly. Need to balance out the empty burn from the smoke.

The mushrooms did NOT taste like "beautifulness", or whatever nonsense Josh had spoken of. They tasted like "mushrooms" with a little acidic twinge. Chewy after a mild crunch, milquetoast in flavor, with an aftertaste of something like orange juice. Not half bad, the mage assessed. As he rubbed at the beard which he did not have, Storm leaned back in his chair to ponder.

For a mage, you don't know jack shit about nature's goodies. Aside from the healing leaves and poison plants Karuka taught you about, all of the forest's offerings are somewhere between ass and elbow for you. Why not take the time to learn? If there's a chance to catch this type of buzz, what's the harm?

Smiling, the effects of the mushroom not yet taken hold, the lightning wielder leaned back as he listened to Cronen crone on. Reefer this, elf chick that, and an intonation that suggested Josh was speaking to either himself or an imaginary friend standing behind where both Storm and Shinsou sat.

"Radasanthian Reefer? I grew up around there, you sound like a schoolteacher. Kids just call it "ragleaf" there; it's a fun time but not like whatever gypsy bullshit this stuff is."

As if upset with the insult afforded the local brand, the window across from Storm sworled in the air. The teak edged panes twisted and spun as the grass melted into fractal crystalline segments, swirling and spinning upon itself, growing into a spectral form as it surged forward. The window apparition charged at Storm, causing him to lean back further and topple from his chair. The ghastly assaulter disappeared as quickly as it formed, spinning up through the cathedral ceiling of the wood-framed room.

Noooooooooooo!!!!

Storm was falling backwards, a fall of no less than five thousand feet. He fell freely, spinning his arms in counterclockwise circles as he attempted to regain balance, failing to square his body disposition with electromagnetism about his feet. He fell and fell and fell, some five thousand feet before smashing his body into the cobblestone road outside, shattering mortar and stone while obliterating flesh and bone alike.

Storm Veritas was dead.

About the corpse, Shinsou and Josh had witnessed the wizard's eyes pop open wide as he leaned back, before losing balance and falling from his seat to the floor, some two and a half feet below him. Groaning, the aging adventurer bemoaned his death, and the commensurate loss for humanity.

Tripping balls is bad for you.

Hallucinations are bad enough. But after a short while you eventually learn to cope with things like seeing your dead girlfriend from five years ago crawling up your leg with a machete between her teeth.

Most fanciers of the kinds of psychadelic offerings that Althanas could throw at them can handle this sort of thing. But nobody can handle that other trip. That trip where a man like Storm Veritas can walk into the Russet Apple and suddenly appear in the sky over downtown Lornius twelve times the size of God, howling anything that comes into his head.

This place was not a good town for psychedelic drugs.

So when the inevitable happened, it sent Shinsou's narcotic addled mind into pandemonium.

Storm reeled from his chair, but instead of falling onto the floor in a crumpled heap the chair simply got sucked into the floorboards and melted away like hot butter on a skillit. The electromancer seperated like water in oil, his finery exploding into beads of light and his face cracking and shattering like a window that had just had a brick put through it. Every piece of his partner in crime came apart before reassembling themselves in a kaleidoscope of flesh and felt.

Then, without a care in the world, the clouds outside the windows became Veritas's face and Josh's eyes.

"Storm, who gave you permission to become the fucking sky?"

“Ragleaf?” Josh laughed so hard he choked on his scotch and nearly fell out of his chair. He watched casually as Storm morphed into some type of planar deity, clearing his throat with another sip of scotch. “I hate to go against the word of a celestial,” he said, “but ragleaf IS what they sell to schoolchildren. It’s not the same thing as Radasanthian Reefer, that’s like saying, I dunno, that the Serenti Softballers are the same thing as the Coronian Cannons. Just because they play the same sport, doesn’t put them in the same league.” The strange analogy to non existent teams of an unspecified sport broke like shattered stained glass and wafted away on the breeze coming through the Breaker-shaped hole in the wall.

“Poppycock,” Storm said. Every syllable he pronounced looked like a beautiful exploding firework. “There’s no WAY I got sold school children dope.”

Suddenly, and with great quickness of action and to the surprise of all present, with a hast most unbecoming of his previous decorum, the young server did appear at the head of the staircase. He did not bat an eye at the cats, nor cat a thigh at the bats. He nodded respectfully to Storm the shimmering celestial and bussed Breaker’s empty mushroom plate.

“Can I bring you anything else, sirs?” He asked, eyeing the hole in the wall. “A contractor, perhaps?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Screamed Shinsou, Josh, and Storm. They were frightened, to say the least, they were startled. In other words, the server had them by the goat hairs; he truly had crept up like a wily jack’o’the snares. Why, if he’d been carrying an Alerian repeater with adamantine armor-piercing bullets and wearing an antimatter suit, he might have just gotten the drop on the three heroes.

“C-c-cats…” Shinsou stammered lethargically, leaning on the table for support with his main arm and tucking the non main arm behind the other side of his bipedal abdomen. “He’s covered in cats!”

“Fucking RATS!” Storm cursed, “he’s being eaten by rats!”

“Snake ninjas!” Josh shuddered. “Why did it have to be snake ninjas???”

Despite all seeing different things, the powerful men all appeared petrified of the server, who stammered and stuttered for a second, his posture shifting in uncertainty and surprising agility, and then he turned and left, muttering something about getting a good tip.

"Fare thee well, beautiful stranger."

Shinsou, bidding the feline smothered attendant goodbye from the room, hadn't noticed it was Storm's turn to speak. Owing to the fact the electromancer's face was currently stretched across most of the cosmos, the Telgradian reckoned he could be forgiven on this one occasion.

Especially because he had come up with a fantastic idea.

"Storm, Josh, holy shit! We need to go on a quesssttttt!" The Telgradian declared triumphantly, raising the arm which hadn't transformed into a squid into the air.

Joshua, brushing off the giant crab that had melted through the ceiling and mounted his back for comfort, frowned.

"What kind of quest?"

Shinsou wiped his brow as Storm's face finally rained onto the cobblestone streets below, before converging on one spot in the middle of the room, taking human form.

"Fuckin'...I don't know man. Vampires seem to be a problem these days. Vampires, cats, that sort of thing. We're free thinkers, right? We're fucking problem solvers. Let's go solve some fucking problems!"

Go on the quest.

Storm resurrected himself with relative ease, standing up to his new life with a stagger. The servant had come and gone, with Storm doing very little to slow the progression of the attacker. In fairness, he was dead, and the servant was an angel taking him to the afterlife. It was only after the angel offered to bring a whore around that the wizard acquiesced he could possibly have overestimated the visitor.

"Lornius is the land of champions. With us up here, and them sending monsters up the stairs, we can't let them line up our execution. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the bottom of this inn was currently inhabited by a goddamned dragon."

He was speaking quickly now, a loud whisper that was neither furtive nor effective. He quickly rolled across the room at the window that had attacked him, peering outside at a fairly nondescript street, with only a few horses and one cart rolling by lazily.

"Now's our chance! Break for the outside, get the f*ck out of here, and we'll take shelter away from these goddamned hobgoblins."

Stepping back across the creaky floors, the magician observed confused glances coming from his partners. Of course, they were paralyzed in fear from the fifty kilogram servant that had come to kill them, so all was fairly understandable. The wizard stole a glance down the stairs, where the servant conspired with the big-titted woman that Veritas presumed was an operative of some sort.

"Hadoken, Motherf*ckers!"

With an extended palm, Storm blasted the window and adjacent wall with a blast of blue-white energy, the pulse more bulbous and unconstrained than he had intended. The wall billowed in, sang to him, and then exploded outwards, sending shrapnel of glass, wood, and plaster radially away from the threesome and opening a man-sized hole in the wall.

"Away from the hobgoblins!" With a piercing whistle, Attila was called as Storm Veritas jump/fell out of the window, this time actually injuring himself somewhat considerably with an awkward fall onto packed earth some twelve feet below. Confused, his mighty horse sauntered over to them, looking up towards the remaining adventurers as the host and servants charged up the stairs to assess the horrible racket the Idiot Champion had created.

Meet in an inn then go on a quest! Josh thought to himself. It's brilliant! Why hasn't anyone ever done this before? He reclined on a sofa of slow-melting butter as the world rotated beneath them. Storm, seeming overly excited at the mention of a quest, exited the building in the most destructive manner possible. Josh would have taken this as a personal challenge, but he was feeling pretty relaxed. Like, really REALLY relaxed, to the maximum effect. Slowly the molecules of his body became pure water and he melted away into a puddle which evaporated and ascended the heavens. He could hear the ocean goddess Am’aleh calling his name, a siren song that was as gorgeous to listen to as it was beautiful.

Like an eagle above the clouds or a dolphin beneath the seas, he soared. Like a pot of water or a good egg he boiled. Like a shooting star or a sparking flame he flew. Time and time again, metaphor after simile, continent after continent, he witnessed all that was or ever could be. He saw the wastes of the Tular Plains, the jungles of Dheathain, the red forest of Raieara, and the Frankish Ligers of Alerar. Some of the things he saw might not have been canon, but the guy is tripping balls, give him a break. Er.

Breaker rematerialised into human form by the blessing of Am’aleh outside The Russet Apple, standing next to Storm. He looked on with all the other looky loos and said things such as “what’s all the commotion?” and “well I never!” as if on a fixed timer and loop. After a few cycles he decided he preferred being a main character and snapped the fuck out of it.

“Good people!” He called, spreading his hands majestically and handsomely. “My friend is a powerful wizard of the highest order. What you have witnessed is an arcane experiment that will change the face of magic on Althanas as we know it. Also, he will pay for all damages.” That seemed to settle down the rowdiest of the bunch. A few hopeful-eyed adventurers remained, looking on as they wondered whether there was any room in the questing party.

There wasn’t.

Shinsou leaned on a palm tree and inspected the smattering of generic adventurers before his eyes. Every single one was a perfect specimen, each equipped with six packs, swords, armour, a tragic backstory and a desire to fight meaninglessly in the Citadel.

"Right, no. Stop." Shinsou demanded, leaving his comfortable leaning post as each of the adventurers snapped to like the prerequisite for a military parade ground inspection. "Is this our world now? Are taverns populated only by clones of He-Man?" No-one knew who He-Man was, which was fair enough because he didn't technically exist in this canon.

The Telgradian determined, after some thought, that this planet had a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much all of the time. Many solutions had been suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movement of small green pieces of paper, which was odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy. Looking at this collection of nondescript humanity, Shinsou wondered if perhaps the unhappiness stemmed from a drought of new problems to solve.

The Telgradian, exasperated, decided it was time for a song. As piano chords and violins began their concerto of childlike music, Shinsou Vaan Osiris and a handful of small dancing elves began a finely choreographed routine.

"Do you wanna build a military junta?
Come on let's go to Whitevale,
I never see Storm anymore
Because he's fucking whores
All the live long day!"

The elves began showering Shinsou with glitter as he erupted into spontaneous expressive dance.

"We used to be best buddies
And now we're not
I wish you would tell me why!-
Do you wanna build a junta?
It doesn't have to be an evil junta?
Go away, Shinsou!
Okay, bye..."

The elves began sobbing as if to emphasise the sadness inherent in the lyrics.

"Do you wanna build a faction?
Or ride our horses around the halls
I think a coup is overdue
I've started talking to
the pictures on the walls-
(Hang in there, Arius)
It gets a little lonely
All these empty streets
With no Brotherhood soldiers walking by-
Storm?
Please, I know you're in there
People are asking where you've been
They say "have courage", and I'm trying to
I'm right out here for you, just let me in
We only have each other
It's just you and me
What are we gonna do?
Do you wanna build a Brotherhood?"

There was a moment's expectant pause while Shinsou slowly came to a halt at the front of the inn. Lights flashed and flickered experimentally and settled down into a businesslike pattern around his face. A soft low hum came from Joshua Cronen, who was now vibrating at a high frequency.

"Good Morning, Joshua" said Shinsou with infinite majesty and calm. "You appear to be suffering some sort of molecular anomoly there. Anyway, shall we proceed?"

"Where to?" Asked Storm, who was now essentially a giant Alerarian Floofcat.

"Where else?' The Telgradian shrugged. "...but Letho Ravenheart's farm?"

The name of Letho Ravenheart was a sobering one, which forced Storm up from the ground to the two annihilated colleagues. Shinsou's little song was cute enough through it's insanity, but certain ideas rung poor, regardless of the electromancer's state of mind.

"Absolutely f*cking not!" He had managed to his feet, no doubt a miracle of galactic proportions. "I don't care if you've got an invisible goddamned plane. Every f*cking time I've gone to that godforsaken place random assholes sprout from the ground, as if waiting for decades on the off chance I wander through, and get the drop on me. With metal-free guns, no less!"

"For an adventure, we can fly to the Citadel upon Lornius. Set up some traps for the next Corporate Challenge. Next time we have to fight out there, tripwires and tiger-traps and little clouds full of funky green mist."

Pondering the situation, the wizard tapped at his chest, horrified to fail to find the pipe which brought him clarity most times, and incredible confusion today.

Cronen, you motherf*cker...

The Breaker had left the pipe inside! Storm didn't hesitate to act, bounding back UP into the gaping maw of the tavern he'd just caught, where two exasperated attendees (one the bitchy woman with the pillowy boobs) stepped back away from him for a moment. They started yelling in howls as he stepped forward, to afraid to actually assault him but undeterred from launching a verbal attack. He turned to the room servant, the thin man who had put a gypsy curse on the others earlier.

"Fix your goddamned floorboards from burning if you don't want people to blast their way out of rooms, fatso!" Reaching into his pocket, Storm pilfered a small pinch of golden Crowns while he pocketed the familiar pipe. The pipe seated in its familiar home like a knife in a sheath, whereas the gold seemed completely arbitrary.

"For your troubles." Storm tossed the gold to the thin man as he hopped down from the newly forged ledge, unaware that he had offered enough gold to possibly afford six or seven planks, but certainly no actual repair work. Completely vexed, the couple watched as he strode back over in an entirely circuitous route towards Shinsou and Joshua.

"Gentlemen, I've saved the day and salvaged the pipe. We need to ride my Camaro over there before the lizard people come out to get us."

Attila bucked at his gesture, confused and potentially angry at his insinuation. The horse was easily strong enough to carry two men, but three would be a struggle.

“Righto, three shanks and bullion of oak.” Josh grinned. “You two take the horse, I only ride griffins, sea monsters, and dragons. I should be able to keep up - I outran a Fallieni strider once you know.”

“Is a Falleini strider a name for a Fallieni horse?” Shinsou asked in confusion.

“It is now!” Josh shouted. He lifted both arms and the confetti cannons either side of the walkways erupted. The crowd gathered together and quieted, expecting another epic musical number as the demigod struck a gallant pose.

“Josh, we don’t have time for that!” Shinsou shouted as Breaker opened his mouth to sing. The Telgradian and the lightning mage had already climbed aboard the mountain of a horse. They kept their seats back in the full upright position and adjusted the a/c until it hit that perfect ambience of cool and warm. Shinsou leaned out the window and Storm leaned on the horn.

Attila scuffed the ground with his hooves, confused by all the automobile references, and tossed his beautiful maned head.

“Come along, Joshua,” Attila said in his horsiest voice, “we’ve got ads to venture!” With that the big animal took off galloping down the road.

“Damn it,” Josh muttered. He’d really been looking forward to trying out the triple pirouette at the end of his softshoe number. Not that there was anything soft about his shoes.

He took off running like a stone from a sling, charging through Attila’s wake until he caught up with the horse and jogged at its side.

“Brilliant idea to get out for some fresh air,” Josh told Storm as they moved. The Lornian air was fresher and crisper than most because of the floating city’s altitude. This actually gave athletes from Lyridia an edge in competition, because due to their acclimatisation to the high altitude their bodies processed oxygen more efficiently when they went to lower altitude venues. Training in Lyridia (if that’s the floating city’s name, I’ve forgotten and I’m too lazy to check) offered a host of benefits to competitors. In his earlier years on Althanas, Josh would have taken advantage of this.

Back then, you actually had to support your abilities with actual in character events. You couldn’t just be all “Oh by the way, my character has 10x strength too because lul why wouldn’t he?” Back then, it would have mattered to have a cool idea like training at altitude for increased endurance. Now, however, it didn’t matter at all, so Josh barely spared a thought for it.

“Hey, running to Letho’s farm was a pretty great idea,” Josh said as they neared the edge of the floating city. “There’s only one problem…”

Suddenly the road ran out, and the mighty horse and all three men plunged into the inky darkness of the Lornian sky.

Quote:

---

I wrote this while wasted

---

Now it is such a bizzarely improbably occurance that anything so mind-bogglingly random as there suddenly being no road, purely by chance, could happen that some thinkers have chosen to see it as the final and clinching proof of the non-existence of God.

The argument goes something like this: "I refuse to prove that I exist,'" says God, "for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing."

"But," says Man, "The road running out for no reason is a dead giveaway, isn't it? It could not have happened by chance. It proves you exist, and so therefore, by your own arguments, you don't. QED."

"Oh dear," says God, "I hadn't thought of that," and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.

"Oh, that was easy," says Man.

Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun. Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-two million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue green planet called Althanas whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think buff abilities are a pretty neat idea.

Observing all of that at once, silmultaneously, was an absolutely destroyed Shinsou Vaan Osiris. The goal was the grounds for the Lornius Corporation Challenge, so that his questing party could lay traps and claim glory in the name of whatever. What he could see in front of him was Atilla and his friends being stretched like cosmic pizza dough through the cosmos, until their very beings were literally molecules wide.

FUCK, GET ME OFF THIS RIDE.

"Shinsou" the stretched, deformed Joshua Cronen said, "there's an infinite number of monkeys outside who want to talk to us about this script for Cats they've worked out."

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend.
I've come to talk with you again.
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping.

The leap from the abyss of the world should have been expected. Attila the mighty had charged ahead with Storm and Shin in tow, while Joshua raged forward in a sort of intoxicated slurry that belonged somewhere between a Radasanthian alleyway and a storybook. When the edge of the universe reached them, it sent the trio tumbling out towards the darkness, into the black void with myriad white dots of energy, hope, and confusion.

"The stars... they are the alignment of our core energies. Capture the energy and we can rule the world." Storm's eyes were dilated and slightly reddened; he didn't fully understand what he was saying. One luxury of the darkness was the relief from tunnel vision; when the entire periphery was identical to the white dotted carpet of black, there was nothing lost in the channeled view of nothing.

The white dots began to coalesce in front of the three, constellations swirling on themselves as the millions of dots formed lines, planes, and three dimensional shapes. They coiled and spun and twisted into what started as a tornado shaped apparition but continued to tighten and elongate.

A hissing, cooing, echoing sound reverberated about them, like water down a drain. The convergence of stars curled up before them, a mighty cobra of white beckoning them to come and die.

"Ride the snake!"

“Ride the snake,” Storm mumbled unconsciously, writhing gently on his back. “Ride it forever and to the moon.” Breaker and Shinsou had already awoken after the fall to Lornius proper which should have massively overkilled them. Perhaps it was the Telgradian’s latent magic that had saved them. Perhaps it was Breaker’s patron, Am’aleh the Thayne of the sea, who had sheltered them with her hand. Perhaps it was the luck of the Jake, who is a different character of mine. No one could say for sure.

Sadly, Attila had died. After waking up Storm wept bitter acidic tears of sorrow that supplanted the fresh soil and formed a calcified circle of rocks around the steed’s body. Not wanting to put any of the good horse to waste, the trio of heroes quickly built a fire and roasted the good horsemeat. Soon beautiful smells wafted from the fire, gorgeous tendrils of handsome odors that pleased the nostrils and tastebuds in many ways. Josh used a packet of salt he’d taken from the restaurant to spice the meat, and as the flames died down to banked coals, the feast began.

“I can’t,” Storm said, turning his head away from the crispy haunch Breaker passed him. “Attila was my faithful steed, my strong companion… my horsey horse!”

“Eat,” Josh said, his eyes swirling volcanic miasmas of whorly elucidating knowledge. “This way, Attila will be with you always. And it will give you the strength of a horse… but only if you are fighting another horse.”

“Breaker, you are bloody crazy.” Shinsou mumbled from where he was munching happily on a shank steak. “This may be some grade A top choice horsemeat, but it doesn’t bestow any special powers.”

“That is where you are wrong,” Breaker smiled. “The horse meat will not bestow YOU any special powers… but Storm had a bond of love forged with the creature. Some of its life essence will pass on to him in consumption.

“How do you know all this?” Storm asked, still hesitant to take a bite.

“I read the wiki,” Josh shrugged.

The wiki is a wonderful thing. When Shinsou checked it, he realised that Josh had missed out a very important part, which was the section that denoted exactly what happens in the event of an NPC death in liquid time.

They re-appear, of course, completely unharmed.

Therefore, against all probability a horse had suddenly been called into existence several miles above the surface of a planet known as Althanas.

And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a horse, this poor innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity as a horse before it then had to come to terms with not being a horse any more.

This is a complete record of its thoughts from the moment it began its life till the moment it ended it.

Ah … ! What’s happening? it thought.

Er, excuse me, who am I?

Hello?

Why am I here? What’s my purpose in life?

What do I mean by who am I?

Calm down, get a grip now … oh! this is an interesting sensation, what is it? It’s a sort of … yawning, tingling sensation in my … my … well I suppose I’d better start finding names for things if I want to make any headway in what for the sake of what I shall call an argument I shall call the world, so let’s call it my stomach.

Good. Ooooh, it’s getting quite strong. And hey, what’s about this whistling roaring sound going past what I’m suddenly going to call my head? Perhaps I can call that … wind! Is that a good name? It’ll do … perhaps I can find a better name for it later when I’ve found out what it’s for. It must be something very important because there certainly seems to be a hell of a lot of it. Hey! What’s this thing? This … let’s call it a tail – yeah, tail. Hey! I can can really thrash it about pretty good can’t I? Wow! Wow! That feels great! Doesn’t seem to achieve very much but I’ll probably find out what it’s for later on. Now – have I built up any coherent picture of things yet?

No.

Never mind, hey, this is really exciting, so much to find out about, so much to look forward to, I’m quite dizzy with anticipation …

Or is it the wind?

There really is a lot of that now isn’t it?

And wow! Hey! What’s this thing suddenly coming towards me very fast? Very very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like … ow … ound … round … ground! That’s it! That’s a good name – ground!

I wonder if it will be friends with me?

And the rest, after a sudden wet thud, was silence.

It was then that everything suddenly got a bit serious. With lightning quick turns and twists, the electric snake snapped to and fro before delivering the triumvate to their destination.

The grounds of the Lornius Corporation Challenge.

Slepnir, Shinsou's mighty horse, had kindly volunteered to take over proceedings after Atilla's untimely death and found itself cantering into a place seperated into seven segregated areas. They all looked wildly different - each appeared to have some sort of time constraint on their existence, too - but they each bore one thing in common; none of them had any traps.

"Jackpot, boys" Shinsou said, removing a Salvic Snowleapord cat from his right shoulder. "We made it."

"It's fucking horrible." Storm's eyes were now just pissholes in the snow; he didn't fully grasp that he was hanging upside down from Slepnir's saddle.

The trio found themselves at the large stony forum outside the Lornius Corporate Challenge. Shinsou, still grinning ear to ear as he shoveled handfuls of teriyaki'd venison they had stolen from street vendors, now called Attila "Slepnir" as he ogled at the horse's great jaw. Joshua, who greedily scanned the entire arena for action, bounced from toe to toe with anticipation, albeit a brutal lack of coordination.

Tapping the bottom of his pipe, the wizard realized his smoke was now reduced to mere ashes. It was a sad realization; the magic gumbo was gone.

How the hell did we get rid of that snake?!

Dots were not connecting for him, as bits of his conscious self began to flitter into the front brain. The buzz was wearing off him slightly, although colors still ran into each other and the clock above the LCC was slowly spinning backwards as it declared a time of 35:95. Presuming that this was simply a method the wealthy used to showcase mastery over the fourth dimension, Storm popped off the horse and floated over to the front counter.

"Help you, sir?" a bright eyed young lady stood before him, in a snug, handsome-fitted navy suit with gold trim. Her gaze became a bit leery as she no doubt smelled the rank of whateverthehell the three imbeciles had been up to.

"Yes, dear, and fine to meet you. As a former Champion of the Lornius Corporate Challenge, I was wondering if you'd do me the honor of representing us on a tour of the grounds? My friends and I have been itching to see the platform for the next competition; I'd love to come back and take another crack at a second crown!"

Nope. That is not what came out. The disconnect between intent and delivered speech was glaring, and Storm's inquiry was far less cogent:

"Run to grounds and show me, lady! I won the fahgin' thing so drag me through for show and teach the tricks of LCC and you don't understand I won the fahgin' thing. Sorry, lovely. Tour."

Eyebrows above the delicate sapphires the employee darted northward with confusion and perhaps a blend of fear. Storm's shirt had found a way to open itself to the ribs, exposing him as somewhere between a lust-fueled hedonist and penniless transient. A few larger men began shuffling towards Shinsou, Joshua, and Storm Veritas as security sensed a need for its services.

"Steady there, you large lads," Breaker said. "You know who we are right?"

The security guards paused for a second, glancing at one another in indecision. Quite aside from their broad array of hidden powers, Shinsou, Josh, and Storm were all large men who looked like they could handle themselves if they weren't tripping harder than an orc in a halfling hole.

"Alright then," the lead guard said, "who are yehs?"

"Well," Josh said grandly, ignoring the way the guard's eyes flashed neon psychedelic colors, "here we have Storm Veritas, co-leader of the Brotherhood of Castigars and also a previous winner of the LCC. Known for taking down entire platoons of armed men and wielding lightning like a Dheathic demigod. Next to him is Shinsou Vaan Osiris, arbiter of the Brotherhood and one of the finest swordsmen in the known world. He knows lots of funny spells too, so don't get gawky. And me... well, I suspect I need no introduction."

The guard screwed up his eyes. "Are you... Jensen Ambrose?"

"WHAT?" Josh screamed. "How could you... come on I... with the Y-shaped scars and metal boots... fucking JOSHUA fucking CRONEN. The Breaker. I suplexed the crap out of Ambrose when we met in the Cell."

"Oh right," the guard shifted his feet nervously. "Sorry." An awkward moment followed. The guards didn't want to attempt to take down three such notorious heroes, even in their obviously altered state. But they needed them to leave. The trio of Castigars did not want to harm the guards, but they needed to stay. Those traps were not going to plant themselves, and no one had yet noticed that the LCC likely wasn't going to happen for at least another year. They really should have been booby-trapping the fields of Gisela.

"Look," the lead guard said at last, "we don't want to fight you... so why don't we decide this with a game of Tragic: The Blathering?" He pulled a deck of round cards out of his pocket. "I assume you're all packing."

"Haidia yes we are!" Josh exclaimed. He and his companions all pulled out their own decks and sat down cross legged in a semi circle facing the guards, who did likewise. "This is going to be so much fun!" Josh said.

"Anyone got any smoke?" Storm asked mournfully over his empty pipe.

Despite carrying an intricately decorated deck of cards for Tragic: The Blathering on his person for many years, Shinsou really hadn't ever bothered to learn the game. It could have been the sheer complexity of the rules, or perhaps the fact that being so involved in the day to day running of a paramilitary organisation left him little time for pleasantaries such as this, but the Telgradian simply hadn't had time.

Of course, this was the one fucking occasion he had literally needed to know the game. As cards were handed out, placed face down and turned sideways in a flurry of expertly timed hand movements and accompanied by lots of "oos" and "ahhhs", Osiris desperately attempted to recall the rules before his turn, which was fast approaching.

A player's deck. Right. These cards are kept face down and... should they be randomly ordered? Something about "must contain at least 60 cards in Constructed play", or at least 40 cards in Limited play. What the fuck does that even mean? Is there a maximum deck size? I'm pretty sure there may only be four of any nonbasic land card.

Shit.

It was his turn.

Storm was confused for a minute, saddened by the lack of intoxicants and disenfranchised by the lack of engagement his ideas were getting. Then, as he processed the offering the Breaker had produced, a smile spread from ear to ear as he abandoned his other ideas.

"Stats!" he began, blurting out to all that would listen. "I remember these, don't you?! When a game gets beat into your head enough, stats are all that matter!"

Visions of old conversations from his entitled childhood popped to the front brain. There was a time where he carved delightful tales about wearing his Vespine Cloak of Engorgement +6 against hordes of oncoming Higher Werewolves, but he learned over time that in this game, your storytelling was a waste of time.

"Don't you get it? It's the best game of all time! You can bullshit your way through any half-assed story, because all anyone gives half a hairy f*ck about is the STATS!"

The guards sat down immediately. They were morons, of course, but loved the opportunity to be special for an hour. For all of the wasted intruders' meanderings, everyone loved the opportunity to play the hero, be it deserved or not. The cards were dealt out and one of the musclebound idiots began bouncing in his seat. Joshua walked them through the rules briefly before the big fool got to act first.

"I, uh, I am playing a +8 Shield of Prolific Invicibility! A boost to all stats by so much that I can't lose, no matter what! My character wields the shield, kicks Storm in the face with a Boot of +11 Strength and Doom, and then has sex with every suitable mate on Althanas! Checkmate for Borg!!"

Gleeful, the simpleton rose again, dropping errant cards as he danced about with abandon. He had been able to manipulate the scoring to make himself unstoppable, in spite of his own incompetence.

"Well, this game f*cking sucks now. Let's go get high."

And with that, Storm turned into a cloud of dust.

The guards blinked and looked at one another.

Shinsou and Josh exchanged a glance.

"He turned into... dust." A guard said.

"Dust, dust, dust, dust, dust, dust, dust," the chorus chanted from the eaves of the LCC builing.

"He just turned into dust," the guard sang rising on one knee in a shaky spotlight.
"And in that we must trust,
No need to be a-fussed,
He just turned into dust!"

The guard did a leaping sashay and a triple pirouette, his limbs at perfect angles. He was just a man who grew up a young boy in the xenophobic island nation of Lornius. He didn't need the trials of his people, or the heavy stereotypes that hung over the head of the young men there. All he ever needed was the dance.

"This is my moooooooment," He sang as he stride-leaped around the stage - I mean general vicinity.
"I couldn't be
More ecstatic to be singing
And dancing in front of such a crowd!"

What followed was surely some of the most beautiful dancing anyone had ever witnessed on Althanas. It bested Alina Espa'drina by a long shot. Leila the Succubus could not touch it. The ninja Kyosku Tetsoma looked awkward by comparison. Hyperion could not give a hug so handsome. It was stunning, startling, cloying, and breathtaking. Altogether it was absolutely indescribable, so all you get is a pile of adjectives and obscure references.

As the guard-dancer struck a splayed-leg pose at the conclusion of the number, his foot struck the pile of cards, sending them fluttering through the air.

There was a moment of silence.

"Ah feck," Storm muttered. "Game's ruined. Ah well. Anyone got any smoke?"

Name of Thread: Workshop: By the time they figure out what went wrong we'll be sitting on a beach...
Judgement Type: Workshop
Participants: Storm Veritas, Breaker and Shinsou vaan Osiris

Rewards:

Breaker receives:
2340 EXP
130 GP

Storm Veritias receives:
1875 EXP
120 GP

Shinsou Vaan Osiris receives:
1875 EXP
160 GP

Includes bonus from Lornius - 1.5 x EXP.

“People are strange . . .”
― Jim Morrison

All rewards have been added.

2 AP taken from Breaker.