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Creative Writing 2

September 2, 2010 Leave a comment Go to comments

Here’s the second “story” for you. Looking back on it, I have no idea what was up with the names of the characters. I’d like to say that I was making them as generically bad as possible, but that would be giving myself way too much credit.

Story 2

Through an ethereal haze comprised mainly of grog fumes and pipe-weed, Drimming heard a distant voice calling to him.

“I’m sorry. Yes, how can I help you?” is what he meant to say, but it came out more like, “Hmmmph, errgg *belch* phew.”

“Hey!” The voice was clearer now, the haze was thinning. “You’re not sullying my nice clean table with your vomit and drool, is ye?”

Drimming opened his eyes.  Despite a slight blurring of his vision and a not quite so slight doubling of his vision, he started staring at the table. Drimming wondered what the barkeeper’s definitions of “nice” and “clean” were. He ran his tongue around his mouth, it didn’t taste like he had vomited. He had a purpose for being here, but what was it? He swatted at his head, there was a fly buzzing around bothering him.

“I said you can’t sleep here, mate, if you want a room that’ll cost ya.” It wasn’t a fly bothering him, it was the barkeep again.

Things were coming back to him now.  “There was a women, where is she?”

“You leave that wench alone, she’s put up with you all night, and I think you should pay for what you’ve drunk before you drunk more.”

“No. No, there was another woman.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened in sudden, shocked understanding, “Now I’ve no mind to tell you what to do with your own coin, but this is a clean establishment and I won’t be having any alley walkers dragging the good name of my inn through the mud.”

“No. No, she wasn’t a whore.”  Drimming was getting agitated and said the last word a bit louder than he should’ve.  He became dimly aware of a whole common room full of eyes staring at him. He pushed the embarrassment aside; judging from the taste in his mouth, he was about 3 flagons and two pipes past any hint of modesty.  Who was the women and why was she important? What was he even doing here?  The gears in his mind started grinding against each other, slowly sloughing off alcohol infused rust.

While Drimming’s thought process was trying to build speed, the innkeeper recovered from his shock.  He began to whisper quickly and feverishly, “Sir, I’m going to have to request you lower your voice before I have Tib throw you out to the elements.”

“Are you still babbling, leave me be!” Drimming turned his head away from the babbling fool while raising his fist to his temple to block out further interruptions from him.  He barely registered the artifact clenched between his fingers. The innkeeper, on the other hand, was much more perceptive. He stepped back aghast.

“Thief!” The innkeeper cried pointing at Drimming. That managed to get his attention. Drimming turned his head to look at his accuser and noticed the amulet he held.  The previously mysterious events of the night came back to him in a flash.  He had come to this town to beg for help from the local cleric, Lelidra.  Kefka, the elven rogue from his group had tried to rob from the wizard, Zhim.  Zhim caught Kefka and punished him by transforming him into a crystal tree. The party managed to surprise Zhim as he was finishing the spell and slayed him at the moment the spell took effect.  The group decided that Lelidra was the only one near that even had a chance to return Kefka to his normal state, and Drimming was volunteered to request her help.  He had met her at the bar and she gave him her holy symbol along with the necessary prayers to reverse the spell.  Drimming had already drunk a few flagons waiting for her, and after she left, he had decided to reward his job well done with another flagon.  One flagon turned into five, five turned into five more, and those five more had turned into a number that was too high for Drimming to count to, even if he wasn’t drunk.  And now the innkeeper recognized the amulet.  Drimming snapped back to the present.

“Hey, hold on a minute.”  But it was too late.  The innkeeper was already by the door blocking his escape. Or waiting for something. Drimming checked his surroundings.  Most of the patrons of the bar were just that, they would flee from any fight. The only danger they posed him was getting in the way.  He had not gotten a good look of Tib, and now he was probably fetching the town’s guard, so he wasn’t sure what he would be up against when they got back.

He tried getting up.  It was much easier said then done.  Drimming was wearing quite a bit of armor, and he had had quite a bit of alcohol.  He tried once and failed.  He realized that he had the sudden urge to urinate, and the excess physical exertion was not helping things.  He waited for the feeling to subside and catch his breath a little.  He tried a second time, and managed to get up right as some of the guard was rushing through the  door.  The innkeeper was starting to explain the situation and had his back turned to Drimming.  Drimming stepped forward and his massive frame accidentally knocked the table over.  The noise was atrocious, and beyond that, the guards needed no further explaining.  They advanced towards Drimming, swords drawn.  He reached for his own sword and found it missing.  He lost the battle of wills with his bladder the moment he remembered that he had removed it while talking to Lelidra; she would not speak to anyone who was armed, or otherwise ready to do violence. The guards didn’t look like they were in the mood for negotiations, the grins on their faces suggested as much, their raised swords suggested even more.

The team would not be happy about this.

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