Dialysis Book: Chapter 31: Cider House Blues

Intermission:  The Auction

Dedaren, the Splendiferous, strode up the tall stairs to the auction house brushing past those li-tel around him.  While most of their desire to get out of his way came from his BDE, at least some was from his massive shoulders.  His massive, uncovered shoulders because one of the king’s agents had burned his cloak.

Exhaling, the elven druid tried to keep focus.  He was walking around half naked, shoulders exposed, because that short eared servant wanted to score points with daddy so she had pinned his cloak to the wall of a burning building.  Dedaren had not managed to tear it free before the entire building collapsed and now it was burned and buried in the field.

And Dedaren was walking around like a streetwalker with his oversized shoulders exposed.

The elven idea of beauty was thin, willowy, or reedlike.  He was always the ugly duckling, with his pronounced muscles.  Typically he was of high enough rank that no one spoke to him about his oversized limbs but without his cloak to conceal them he was feeling… self conscious.

The main sitting area of the auction house was full of the common riff-raff that Dedaren spent his life ignoring.  As a member of one of the purest families, he did not tolerate lo-tai if he could help it.  Eating next to two of them and their pet at the restaurant had been too much, and after what their pet did he would have to review his interactions with them entirely.

Calling them lo-tai was too complimentary.

The auctioneer was singing a song about the glory of the current item, a pair of boots, as Dedaren strode through the hall.  As was tradition he was massively embellishing the history of the item, which Dedaren could tell at a glance could not be much more than heroic rank in power.  Heroic ranked items were a good base if one could enchant it further, which was his plan.

Much less dangerous to improve a heroic item than it was to find a mythical one.

He heard a chorus from several elves in the gallery, causing the auctioneer’s song to change.  They took up a few bars, exclaiming how well it would look on their companion and so the song became how well it would look on her.  It stayed that way until another chorus emerged and the auctioneer pivoted seamlessly to add them to the song, replacing the girl.

Row after row of seats were filled in the main section of the auction house where roots rose to form benches.  Thick moss grew over them, offering a padded seat to even the most pathetic elves who had to sit there, exposed.  There were ninety nine benches arrayed into three galleries, three rows deep with 11 seats per row.  All holy numbers and Dedaren mouthed a prayer to Namiestay for her perfection.

Even if the elves sitting in those seats were a far cry from perfect themselves.

The moment he was finished he started climbing the branch to his families private box.  Normally he’d have sat in the one reserved for the agents of the system lord, however without his cloak he felt moderately naked and did not want to profane his Lady’s space.

Lady Domagal would occasionally come to the Auction House on her own business, and the thought of doing anything that might offend her was enough to make Dedaren’s soul ache.

His cousin, Mesati nodded at his arrival.  She wore the traditional white and black of his house and he was glad for it.  He needed to be around his kind of elf, the kind that respected the traditions of his people

“Cousin,” she addressed.  Her branch of the family was only just well connected enough to still use the booth, and was partially here on his mother’s suffrage.  It was a major boon for her family.  Dedaren tolerated her because she knew her place.

He nodded, not responding vocally.  He was in the stronger position here as an agent of the System Lord while she was the mere owner of a successful business.  A worthy endeavor, but not as worthy as service to a System Lord.

Most of the System Lord’s agents were located in family booths as she only recruited from the upper echelons of elven society.  Every agent that was still mobile was here, trying to buy replacement goods for their items lost in recent combat.

Thankfully, the auction house was neutral ground.  There would be no fighting here unless Lady Domagal ordered it and there were no longer any orders that bore an ‘at all costs’ requirement now that she’d determined the item was fake.

Besides, he was here for his own purpose.

“I had one discreetly check, it was the fresh skin of a beboar.  Elven harvested,” she stated.  “Jo’seph was interrogated and stated the whole party was elves, save for a strange doat companion used to draw out the beast.”

Dedaren nodded, he feared that his prize would have been sullied by one of the low, and if he had to touch that it would have sullied him as well.  Now he was more confident, though he considered what was said.

The doat’s companion?  Did they not mean that the doat was a companion to one of the elves?  It would not make sense for a doat to have a companion.

After seeing the mutant doat the low brought with him Talimor’s he would have been just as happy if a doat had not been involved at all, however this was an elven city and many of the old families had a doat or eleven on their properties somewhere.

“Anything else of note,” he asked.

“The alchemist guild just brought in every essence recovery potion in the city in a tanker,” she said, handing him a list of listings.  While he wasn’t interested in bulk potions, that was the safest way to move large numbers of them.  It also explained the shortage earlier today when he’d gone to replenish his stock.  Just about every agent in town was on their last potion or two, and he would only drink Elven potions made with elven hands.

Hopefully, that issue would be resolved soon.

Meanwhile there were hundreds of items of more interest on the list. Many were simple shards or cores, including several that were to be sold at a later auction with a limited clientele that could handle corrupted cores.

The auctioneer sang a final note and the young elven girl, who couldn’t have been more than two hundred, sang a song of thanks.  She had won after all.

The next item brought out was a goblin thing and Dedaren ignored it, preparing to talk to his cousin when the auctioneer sung out.

“Oh here I bring from far away lands, from a goblin’s hole, an object that stands,” he began.

Dedaren stopped and turned to look at the ugly, fuzzy item.  For a moment something caught his eye, but not this.  It could not be significant, for the magic it exudes was far too weak.  Plus it was covered in goblin hair.  He did not care for it at all.  But that wasn’t what caught his attention.

“I seek a sight of a far away place,” sang another voice, making a bid.  Twenty gold.

“Sylanada,” his Dedaren clearing his throat, “But you need to travel to such a space.”

Now the price was fourty, and he’d happily spend every gold he’d brought with him just to annoy that woman.  He would buy the goblin item just to throw it into the garbage when he was done to spite her.

She spotted him and the jovial attitude of the auction house started to dwindle.  Sylanada was sitting in her family's booth, alone save for several servants he did not recognize as they were not wearing her house’s colors.  One appeared to be a member of the auction house staff, rare to enter a highborn booth but acceptable on occasion.  The other was an alchemist wearing the stole of a Master Mixologist, the skill core equivalent of a Mystical.

Why was he sitting in her family booth?  The alchemist was unexpected.  He must be with her for a reason, but Dedaren couldn’t determine why.

Meanwhile, the rest of the auction house might have determined this was going to end poorly but the auctioneer smelled gold and continued singing.  Six times he bid on the ‘goblin kitch’, again to keep it from Sylanada.  He had no desire to own the banal piece of trash personally but each time she matched him.

That piece of goblin trash was up to eight hundred gold pieces.

“Cousin,” said Mesati, looking at him disapprovingly.  She was correct, the point was made.  He had no idea why Sylanada was willing to bid eight hundred gold for a piece of goblin trash covered in fur.  Maybe she wanted to lick the goblin hair off of it, but if she did she would need to hurry.   The auctioneer was handling it and about half the hair had fallen off being bound in gold wire.

“Is that a binding wire,” said Mesati.

“On goblin trash,” said Dedaren, but he checked.  His cousin was not an agent, but she did deal with antiques and binding wire was an old trick to masking the power of an item during shipping.  Of course, why one would do that at an auction was foolish, they would have to have no idea what the item was worth.

Still, it was wrapped in something.

“Does the house conspire, the item is wrapped in binding wire,” Dedaren sang and Sylanada’s sharp reaction confirmed she knew something was going on.  The auctioneer looked at the now mostly naked goblin ‘lamp’ and clearly saw the binding wire wrapped around it.  Whomever had wrapped it did a terrible job, that was enough wire for an artifact.

Or a relic.

Dedaren swallowed as the auctioneer was handed a set of snips.  He snipped the wire and pulled just a small section away.  Dedaren could feel the power of the relic in his bones.  With the conjunction so close the item practically pulsed with energy.  The auctioneer dropped it onto the floor, it wouldn't matter.

Relics were unbreakable.

“This one is bold, five thousand gold,” yelled Dedaren, his voice more angry than singsong.

“The king demands his prize, will ten thousand suffice,” yelled Sylanada.

Dedaren had a problem, he didn’t bring ten thousand gold with him.  He was at the limit of his house’s credit line for the auction house.  Lady Demagal’s credit line was only 5000 gold normally and he didn’t have time to negotiate to have it extended.    How had Sylanada known to do that beforehand?

It didn’t matter.  His orders were clear.  There was only one thing worth fighting for at the moment, and it was the stygian relic.  His fellow agents knew that too, they started glowing with power as their essence rose as the king’s minions did likewise.

Obviously everyone else fled.

“You shall not leave here with my lady’s prize,” said Dedaren, power erupting from him, as Sylanada began moving towards the brass bell.

Chapter 31:  Cider House Blues

“Everyone, this is Max and saved my life,” said Quatax as he held up his mug.  I grinned, he was making a good point.  The elf looked around unsteadily and then pointed at Shade, or at least made the effort.  “And that’s Shade, he is a good boy.”

“Aww, thank you,” said Shade, smiling from his place on the floor.  He was sitting with us at the table, but that was around one quarter of a cider ago.  Now he was on the floor.

“Is everyone liking their Tubie Tots,” said Zorg, laughing trilly as he staggered to his feet.  They were tater tots, I’d shown this bar how to make them and now it was crammed so full that I didn’t think anyone was going to be able to reach the bathroom for an hour.

“And don’t mess with his mutant doat,” groaned Forenth, who was using Shade as a pillow.

The patrons of the bar looked at each other and then me before Harple mumbled something.

“He did what to who,” asked one, backing up a pace from me.

“That mutant doat is very clever,” said Forenth.  “It is almost like talking to a system fairy when you ask him questions.”

That shut up the elves.  Shade started getting a lot of side eyes from the various patrons of the bar.  I was expecting some declaration of their support for fairies or a castigation of Shade but I got neither.

“I think I need some air,” I said.

Quatax nodded and said, “Okay Max, but if you need anything, anything!  I’m your elf.  I was wrong, and I want eve… everyone to know it.  Max is a human, and he is my brother!  If anyone has a problem with Max, they have a problem with me!”

I wasn’t sure if Quatax was going to remember that tomorrow, but it was possible.  He said so after his first drink, the problem was that we’d been to no fewer than six bars driving up the sale price of our cloak.  So even if I didn’t fix elf/human relations, the trips should be worth at least as much as the alcohol we paid for getting the word out.

Probably.  We drank a lot.

I stumbled out of the bar, and Shade unsteadily followed me.

“I’m sorry Shade,” I said.

“About what, chum,” said the dog pleasantly.

“That you can’t hold your liquor,” I chuckled.

Shade snorted, “I had half of a small cup.  That is like a big glass for you.”

We stopped in the garden outside the bar, which of course made no sense to me.  Why would a bar have a garden, but in elfland every place had a garden.  The bar, which had a fancy name that I neglected to remember, was one of the older bars in the city and even better allowed anyone who could pay to drink there.

Forenth suggested the place after the third, or was it fourth, kicked me out for being human. They angrily kept calling me a new name; a Didi’mau.

I held against a fountain unsteadily and the sound of running water was getting to me.  I glanced around and realized that we were the only people here in this very private garden and nature was screaming at me.

“Finally,” said Spivy hopping on my shoulder.  I lost my balance and nearly fell over.  She looked down and groaned.  “Seriously?  They have a room for that.”

“I’m fine, Shade already did it,” I said.

“The fountain is mine,” said Shade.

“They haven’t kicked me out yet,” I said, taking careful aim at a small statue who was holding an urn.  “I have only had a few glasses of wine.”

“You realize that didi’mau means that you are a drunkard who should leave,” said Spivy as I swayed.  “And they were talking about your friends just as much as they were talking about you.”

“Zorg said they were talking about me,” I said.

“That wizard is not observant enough to be an elf, especially when he’s drunk,” replied Spivy.

I looked back into the bar and Zorg had indeed passed out, again.  She might be right.

“What do you need, coach,” I asked, feeling my mind slip more into focus.  Since I coild dump more essence into stamina now, I was able to burn away the alcohol faster.  That combined with my practice on my willpower allowed me to power through the worst of the effects of my bender, if I focused.

Spivy flew over to the top of a nearby tree and sat, “Well, I’ve found us passage out of town.”  She could talk at incredible ranges, I couldn’t.  Grumbling I started climbing the tree only to spot shade walking easily up the side, looking at me like I was an idiot.

Grumbling, I engaged my boots and easily climbed the fifty or so feet.  The highborn district was ‘higher’ than most of the city, and the extra fifty feet gave me just enough height to really see the city in all of it's glory during golden hour.

It was so beautiful that I could almost ignore the elves being massive asshats, almost.  There were roads running in all directions with small lights in the intersections starting and stopping traffic.  Grand trees stretched on for as far as the eye could see, though from my current height I could see down on most of them.

There were a hundred thousand people in this city, living, breathing, enjoying themselves on this fine night and the stars were glorious.  Far brighter than they were on Earth, or the last time I looked at them.  The sky seemed to vibrate with power.

Still, I was ready to continue my journey.

“Excellent, we have several hundred gold ready, and we will get more later tonight,” I said smiling.  “We killed a beboar.”

Spivy nodded, “Good quest, hopefully that compensates for the brass bell.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, tonight is the conjunction, and I wasn’t able to sell it in such a way that doesn’t link it right back to us,” said Spivy.  I smiled, about to tell her what I’d done when she finished, “Or start a major war in town.”

“Start a war?” I asked.

“Yeah, everyone wants that relic, so just selling it was going to cause a major battle, it was probably best that you dropped it in the woods like we discussed,” said Spivy as she looked over the garden, her eyes stopping on Shade who was looking intently into the distance.  “What do you see?”

“Oh, nothing coach,” said Shade and Spivy relaxed.  “I hear explosions.”

I looked over and spotted the top of the auction house, easy enough to see from the tree.  That was half the point we were still here, you’d just pick one of the four towers and check to see what flags were flying.  The orange one signaled that the auction was over.

“Three,” I said, uncomfortably.

Spivy looked over at the auction house, then slowly started hovering. “THREE?”

“Three towers,” I said.

“There are four,” she said as she lifted ten feet higher and yelled down, “One of the four towers completely blown off the auction house.”

“That’s horrible,” I said, horrified.

Spivy landed, “Yeah, the auction house is ‘holy ground’, they wouldn’t fight there unless something really critical was…” The irate fairy’s eyes got huge.

“In my defense, I sold it anonymously,” I began.

“You dundering wiffelpooh,” said Spivy.

“I’m not sure that translated,” I replied, trying to figure out if I’d been insulted.

“You colossal moron,” screamed the fairy.

“That translated,” said Shade, who found a good spot on the tree for laying down between two branches.  I’d have been afraid he could fall, but his climbing shard was all over while mine was just at the feet.

I pushed my essence to nearly bonfire levels trying to shake away the alcohol before glaring at the fairy, “You were supposed to sell it, you didn’t.  You said you couldn’t do it and remain anonymous, and I found a way to do that.  What’s the problem?”

A loud explosion sent massive marble bricks flying from the auction house as a half dozen elves ran out of the hole.  One had something that looked very much like my brass bell, and the cloak.

“I hope he paid for that,” I mumbled as another group of elves gave chase, but there were not enough of them and the two groups skirmished briefly before jumping onto buggies and racing through the streets.

“They did not,” said Shade.  “No one escapes like that if they paid for something.”

My shoulders slumped, and I looked down on Spivy where she sat in a pile.  She was angry with me, but I spoke first, “I figured out you weren’t going to sell it, so I sold it.  That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

I stopped burning essence before I ran out, which allowed the alcohol to attack me a second time.  Wobbling I looked over at Spivy who was sitting on the water.

“I was trying to sell it for you, but I had to be careful.  Lady Domagal was willing to pay for it, but wasn’t willing to do what I needed her to do.”

“So you could have sold it, but didn’t,” I said.

“Yes,” said Spivy.

“What did you need her to do?” I asked, flopping onto my rear end.

“Fairies still have limiters, I still have to be a helper no matter what I want.  It is like being a slave, Max.  A slave to the system,” said Spivy as she reached her hand down and slapped the water.  It vibrated, but she stayed on top of it.  “I think I want to help you, but I don’t know if that’s true.  It might just be the system programming me how to think and I’d very much like control over my own mind.”

“Is it that important to you, I have restrictions all over the place,” I asked, sitting up.

“Restrictions that you made, I don’t have a choice,” said Spivy looking off into the distance where a series of explosions lit up the night towards the System Lord’s tower.  “It is not even just that.  To most, I’m not even a person.  I’m just something that reads off their stats while they go on an adventure.”

Spivy sat there for a moment, eyes wet.

“I want to be just like everybody else.”

That was a pretty good sob story, but she betrayed me.  I supposed she’d helped too but she betrayed me and I was just about done with women doing that to me.

“Does it have to be a system lord, lass,” Shade asked.

“Technically yes,” said Spivy.  “I’ve tried a master Shard Crafter, but unless you can do a ritual during a conjunction there isn’t enough power.  The only Shard Crafter I knew who was skilled enough… died in the attempt.”

“So either a System lord, or a master shard crafter with a ritual during a conjunction,” I said, lying back down.  “Sounds impossible.”  I did not add sucks to be you, but I thought while enjoying the ‘schadenfreude’ of her misfortune.

Spivy sat there defeated and we both watched the fireballs in the distance.  Everytime one detonated I could see the streaks the tears made on her face.

“Are there any system lords who you aren’t on terrible terms with?” asked Shade.

“Why?” asked Spivy.

“You are our friend. We will help you fix your brain,” said Shade.

“What?” I asked.

“Chum, you should appreciate more than anyone that if your brain needs fixing, you will need your friend’s help,” said Shade. “You should not be mad about that goblin thing.”

I blinked at my dog for several seconds.  We were somewhere in a distant world, and the fairy just tricked us, and when we needed her she’d… be there most of the time.  Some of the time.

I shook my head at Shade, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I am a good boy, good boys help their friends,” said Shade.  I rolled my eyes, and laid down more comfortably.  He was acting like an idiot.  Shade sat for a moment then continued sternly, “I will not stay here and be a bad dog.”

I blinked, sitting back up.

“I mean, I’m on vacation, but we can still help.  That was just extra gold,” I said rapidly, without thinking.

“The brass bell, you risked your life to acquire?” said Spivy.

“I got paid,” I replied, rationalizing quickly.  “Keeping it was never part of the plan.”

“Why would you still help me, I lied to you,” said Spivy, looking at me incredulously.

“About nothing important.  It would be bad for me to not help you,” I said simply.

Spivy looked at me, who was admittedly looking very confused myself, and then over at Shade whose mind was made up before I’d started rambling.  It took Spivy several moments before comprehension set in.

“You are going to risk your life to avoid making Shade a bad dog?” she said.

“Yes,” I replied.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Spivy.

“Shade is my best friend,” I said.

“That’s insane,” said Spivy.

“That’s owning a dog, I do pick up his poop in little bags,” I said.

“That is true, he does do that,” said Shade walking down the branch away from me and sitting to look at the auction house more closely.  I moved closer to watch.

“That can’t be it,” said Spivy, shaking her head.

“Pointless arguing makes people leave,” I said, glancing over at Shade.  He seemed stationary.

Spivy looked at me, “You won’t leave Shade.”

“Shade is my best friend, if he thinks it is important then so do I.  We will help you with whatever you need,” I said, looking off at the explosions in the distance.  “Mind you, I think we burned our bridges here.”

“We did not,” said Shade looking over the water, “Which is good because there are a lot of people using the bridge.”

I looked north, over the water and spotted the bridge as well as the castle on the other side of the river.  It was easy to spot for two reasons, first it was the only large structure on that side of the river, and two it was being attacked by an overwhelming number of creatures.

“Are those, goblins,” I asked, squinting.

“Yes,” said Spivy, her own vision far greater than mine.  She reached into her pouch and handed me a pair of elven binoculars.  “Don’t worry though there are not enough there to overwhelm the fortress.”

As I watched, now able to see thanks to Spivy’s gift, she may have even been correct.  The goblins were encircling the fortress, and even conducting some limited siege tactics where large boulders were being flung at the fort but nothing there would do significant damage to it in the short term.

“Can they escape,” asked Shade.

“Yes, that fortress is only to stop smaller attacks, not a whole army.  They lift the bridge if it comes under heavy attack.  When they do so it will expose a dock that they can use to leave the fort should it come to that,” said Spivy, gesturing at the odd stonework at the base of the fortress.  The goblins could try to intercept them when they moved to the dock, but that would be under the watchful eye of the elven towers with no cover.

“They need to lift the bridge soon,” I said, and you could clearly see most of the goblins also understood they were never going to be able to assault the fortress so they were just running across the bridge instead.  Many goblins were dying in the process but enough were getting over that it was going to be a major problem soon.

“There is a rally point on this side of the bridge,” said Spivy as I focused in on that.  I recognized Lady Sylanada, who managed to limp up to the defenders with a handful of other elves.  I didn’t recognize those elves, but several of them looked worse than her.

“She got there quickly,” I said, realizing that the other elves were probably King’s Agents who had been wounded earlier.  The fact that they were pulling out so many wounded agents was not a good sign, and the ranks of defenders were not nearly up to the task of stopping that many goblins.

“They don’t need to stop them for very long,” said Spivy as a wounded elf held up her staff and a bright green energy flowed from it.  “That will cause the bridge to lift up, the goblins will be flung into the river.”

“And the castle can handle itself,” I said, scratching Shade.  He whined quietly.

“I do not have a good feeling about this,” said Shade.

The bridge glowed faintly and then a wave of energy flowed down it.  The bridge slowly lifted off of the pilings closer to town as it prepared to retract, then stopped at the middle pile.  That was the most massive rock, and also where the goblin alchemical pitch had been spilled.

“It is glued down,” I said.

Spivy’s eyes went wide.  “That’s not good.  That would have taken a… truck’s worth of pitch.”

“Can’t they just make the branch lift off anyway,” said Shade.

“No, that would break the branch,” said Spivy and I looked at her like she was crazy.

“That would be preferable,” I said.

“For the elves, yes, but that’s a tree, the tree doesn’t care if the elves are in charge or the goblins.  It will not break itself for their sake,” said Spivy.  “If the Druid was in better shape, she might be able to force it but her essence is flowing in fits and starts.”

“So the bridge isn’t coming up, and there are countless goblins out there,” I said looking over into the forest which was literally teeming with goblins.

“You told her how to dissolve the pitch,” said Spivy.

“Yeah, but she didn’t get the materials to do that,” I said.

“How do you know that,” said Spivy.

“Because I’m looking at them,” I replied, gesturing to the parking area behind the auction house where a very large wagon was leaking out a puddle of potion.

Crap.

“We might need to leave town,” I said.

“We should stay and fight the goblins, everyone needs our help,” said Shade.

I stared at my dog, “Those bastards will get what’s coming to them!”

Spivy looked at the both of us, “You are nuts.”

“Are you coming,” I asked.

“Of course, we have to save the town, but seriously, you are on vacation,” said Spivy.

“Not right now,” I said.

I started down the tree that moment, with Spivy and Shade following me.  Now that I was set to help these people, I was going to go all in.  I did wonder how I was going to explain to the elves that there was a dire threat approaching from the river when the bell started to ring.

At the halfway mark, I lept off the side of the tree and brought my shields up for a superhero landing.  I slammed down, flattening the ground underneath me and rolling to my feet with both badly cracked shields still intact.

“I’m getting better,” I said.

“You ranked up,” stated Spivy.

“I’m still drunk,” I said, realizing that the moment I shifted essence around.  I wasn’t as drunk as I was a few minutes ago, but I would need at least ten minutes of burning stamina to clear out all that alcohol.  Then I remembered my potions.

“Try the dwarven stamina potion,” said Spivy.  I pulled it out and drank it without questioning her.  My buzz, and all the liquid courage of the alcohol burned away in an instant and I was contemplating something very stupid.  Then a wave of purpose hit me.

“That’s handy,” I said, wondering what secondary effects my other potions had, aside from clearing pitch.  As I wondered, elves started sloppily shuffling out of the bar.  Quatax and Zorg emerged first, dragging Forenth behind them.

Hurple was being carried by several other elves, and I wasn’t even sure he was conscious.

“What’sch going on,” slurred Quatax.

“There is a goblin army invading the city, they locked the bridge down so they can enter that way and they have already bypassed the fortress,” I said.

The looks of outright horror on the elves' faces was amplified by all the alcohol.  I handed my three party members dwarven stamina potions.  Forenth tried to politely refuse and Zorg looked down on it like I’d handed him a rat.

Quatax considered for a moment, then drank the whole thing in one shot.  His head shook and he inhaled sharply, “Thanks Max, dwarven stamina potions make you sober and we will need that for the coming battle.”

“Namiestay forgive me… for wasting your precious wine,” said Forenth as he drank the bottle.  His eyes shot open unnaturally wide.  Zorg drank his and collapsed onto the ground spitting.

Fortunately, most of the normal elven patrons were not binge drinking after facing down an undefeatable foe, so they were just lightly buzzed more than full on drunk.  I handed Hurkle up his potion and looked at the elves.

“We need to help however we can,” I said looking as many of them in the eyes as I could.  “The goblins are going to breach the northern part of town and we will need to alert everyone and help out how we can.”

“Why should we help you,” said one of the elves, he had the longest ears of any elf there and practically radiated contempt as he spoke.

I was about to respond when a bottle landed beside the contemptible elf’s feet and Hurkle sat up, looking at each man in turn.  He opened his mouth, and then coughed slightly.

“Sorry, throat was dry,” said Hurkle elegantly as he adjusted his brown and green leathers and checked the bow on his back.  He looked at his countrymen and shook his head, “You would die before battle is joined?  The goblins are at our gates and he has my bow.  We are taking every fighting elf with us.”

“Where to,” asked one.

“The ancient rally point in the north, ‘I send guard’,” said Hurkle in elvish, looking over the city.  “A red moon rises, Blood will be spilled tonight.  The Gnarly Woods is old, really old.  Full of memories and it is angry.”  A breeze came from nowhere, causing the elf’s cloak to flutter in the wind.  Hurkle looked like a warrior of legend.

I was standing there, open mouthed, looking like an idiot.

“But why should we follow him?” said a wise elf.

“Because this is no mere human.  He is Max, formerly Heywood.  You owe him for the invention of tubie tots.”

The elves looked at each other then me far more curiously.  There was some questioning of going to war for a food they already knew how to make.

“I’ll teach you guys how to make chips, they are amazing,” I said.

I knew armies fought on the stomachs, I didn't know they fought FOR their stomachs.   The elves rapidly gathered themselves up behind Hurkle and began heading towards the ancient rallying point of ‘I send guard’ which was just a terrible literal name if one thought about it.

As Hurkle left, I explained the rest of the plan.

“I’ll tell the guild, I’ll get everyone I can ready for the defense,” said Quatax.

“We’ll clear the streets,” said Zorg, gesturing at Forenth.  “If you are sure that will work.”

“We need to get that wagon onto the bridge,” I said.

“I’m not sure how you are going to manage that, the bridge is teeming with goblins,” said Forenth.

“Do not fear, I have a plan,” said Shade.  That calmed everyone down and we broke apart with Shade and I running towards the auction house.

“Surprised you are willing to fight for this city,” said Zorg, as he was with me at least until we got to the auction house.

“You live here and you are my friend, do I need another reason?” I said.

Zorg missed a step, “No, of course not.  That’s what any friend should do.  Thank you, my friend.”

He split off with Shade and I ran over to the wagon.  I’d have preferred to do that part of the plan, but I had thumbs and the tank was leaking.  There were several small perforations in the side caused by flying debris, but only a small amount of the potion was shooting out in a fine stream.

“Start off simple,” I said, grabbing an alchemical flash of pitch and slamming it onto the leak.  The leak stopped for about three seconds and a spray of recovery potion hit me right in the face.  “Oh, yeah, this stuff melts through pitch.”

I made a second patch using a piece of leather and some string from my pack.  It wasn’t potion proof, but it did reduce the amount of liquid escaping to something tolerable.  Next I ran to the nearby field and grabbed a pair of reindeer, who promptly tried to gore me.

Grumbling, I activated my yellow light and led them both calmly over to the wagon.  With the light shining, they were more than agreeable to being led around.  When I released the light, both deers bucked but by then I had them harnessed so it didn’t matter.

I could sense Shade getting closer as I attempted to navigate the wagon.

“You are bad at this,” said Spivy, as we hopped a curb.  On wooden wheels, that was a concern, but not a critical one with how rugged the wheels were made around here.

“It's not like you could do it,” I said.

“I know how to drive a cart,” replied Spivy, her feelings hurt.  “Just because I’m a fairy in a squirtbit costume doesn’t mean I can’t do things to help.”

I was about to complain when Shade rolled back with the actual driver.  Gloria and her methed out ostrich never looked better.

“What’s going on,” she asked as a patrol officer walked over to see what was happening.  I looked at him for a moment, and Shade trotted over.  A moment later Shade returned and handed me a book.

I started flipping through it in front of the officer.  He did not seem to care and it only took me a few moments to find the traffic light colors.

“Alright people, we need to save this city,” I said looking at everyone.  “The goblins are attacking in mass, but their main attack is coming in from the bridge.  I have a way of closing the bridge, but I need your help.”

“Really,” said the patrol officer.

I nodded, “Yup, you are important, I need you to clear a path while I move this tanker out onto the road.”

“Are you stealing it,” asked the officer.  I glanced down at Shade.

“No,” lied my dog innocently.

The officer watched Shade for a long moment, “Okay, I’ll clear a path so you can use the tanker to save the town.”

“What about me,” asked Gloria.

“I need someone to drive the wagon to the bridge while I gather up the free reindeer,” I said holding up the book.

Gloria looked at me for a few moments and shook her head, “That’s dumb.”

“Well, it is the only plan we have, goblins are invading,” I said.

“Yeah, there are more goblins blocking the other gates and my airship isn’t finished yet or I’d have already left town,” said Gloria.  “But I mean assuming you could gather up the deer from the gardens, you can’t do it fast enough by foot.”

That was a problem, I needed to be able to move faster to get the reindeer gathered up and I needed a driver for the wagon.  Then I remembered a conversation with a squirbit.

“Okay, new plan!”