Hunting Haidians

[Jake Narmolanya]

I woke maybe six hours later to mid morning sun streaming through the small window. I re-adjusted the patch over my left eye and ran a hand through my greasy hair and then sat up, scratching the scraggly stubble on my chin. My stomach rumbled, crying out for food, but I decided to change first. My clothes felt grimy, and so I stood and opened a portal to my room at the Last Night’s Maiden in Underwood. I didn’t exactly live there, but I kept a few things in the wardrobe. And on the bed. And on the floor. It was a bit of a mess, but I found a fresh change of clothes and a mostly clean cloak. Leaving my used garments in a growing pile, I donned the fresh(er) ones and stepped back through the portal to Serenti.

The sifan clothing I’d chosen this time was dark brown, the heavy woolen cloak a deep green. I tended to stick with the same earth tones over and over. A girl had told me once they suited me, not just a girl, but a seamstress. I assumed she knew what she was talking about and had followed the advice ever since. I slung my crystal sword over my shoulders and strode out into the common room, cutting a path between tables directly to the bar and returning key number eight. I licked my lips and sniffed the air, picking through the salty and savory smells and deciding what to order.

“Eh Boy! Why don’t you break your fast with us? We’re all friends, right?” The giant ginger’s voice floated over the ruckus of the room, using my words from the night before. He and his four friends sat at the same table with one empty chair remaining. I shrugged and held up one finger to say wait one minute, and then turned to the barkeep, a rotund middle aged woman this morning.

“Three eggs, over easy, bacon, home fries, and toast with butter.” I ordered. Why be choosy on breakfast foods when you could have it all?

“Anything to drink?” The woman pushed a greying brown lock of hair behind her ear and left off wiping the countertop. Her expression seemed to challenge whether a half elf of my slight and short stature could consume such a meal. She would be surprised.

“Strong tea, I’ll take that as soon as it’s ready.” Jake tipped the server with a silver and paced through the hubbub of the room as his order was relayed to the kitchen.

“Have a bloody seat!” The redheaded man said enthusiastically, kicking the vacant chair out for me. I swirled my cloak back and sat swiftly, hands on my knees, turning my head so I could scan the entire table.

Directly to my right sat the ginger giant. He had scars on his big ruddy face and scars on his big ruddy hands, and a skinning knife sheathed on a sash across his chest. To his right sat two Salvic men who had to be brothers. Each wore a brooding frown and a belted dirk. No doubt their longswords were on the rack by the door. Beside them sat two women who could not have possibly been related. One was Fallieni, dark-skinned, her movement as fluid as her eyes and hair. The other appeared half-elven like me, but of Raiaeran descent, her pointed ears and high cheekbones a clear giveaway. Not to mention her enrapturing beauty. The Fallieni woman was exotic, and yet she seemed somehow plain next to the Raiaeran. All five of them wore a combination of leathers, linens, and heavy woolens.

“My name is Marvin,” the ginger said gruffly, placing a meaty palm on his chest. He went down the line, pointing at each of his compatriots in turn. “This is Dirk, Flint, Selima, and Aeranessa. Nessa for short.” The big man grinned and stabbed a fried potato on his plate, and then gestured with the utensil at me. “And you are the incomparable Jake Narmolanya.”