Yes, and it does seem to suit you. I suspect to find you’ve taken up knitting. When you, I’d like a sweater. That is the question… around four to six individuals? This task will not be easy nor will it be for the faint of heart.

I need a recommendation from you. I am looking for a few talented individuals for a… mission. Once the dragon is defeated, I’m quite they’ll all be bored out of their minds and need some entertainment. Unfortunately, you and I are both not suitable for this little side quest.

Lingo from another realm. But here you are, right on cue… well, almost, but I won’t hold it against you.

Where is my ‘problematic fav’?

There is beauty in everything, even endings.

Hm. He definitely prefers not to waste either of their time with pointless suggestions.

A wise man knows that kindness does not always mean niceness.

Perhaps. Or perhaps answers are not to be found without more extreme measures. What is Gil willing to risk to find what they’re searching for?

Oh, surely it will have the information they seek. And if not, there are only a few hundred more to search.

Ah, he loves learning nothing of use. He has a section of his library dedicated to those books.

Ah, that’s what the pungent aroma was.

Any books they can recommend?

Ah, love is in the air.

“That seems to be the one consistency between worlds.”

“Like a politician taking money directly from a veteran’s pocket.”

“That is definitely a metaphor.”

Good to see you having fun. Don’t forget to change back before returning to your wife.

“Funnily enough, that tale is incorrect. It was his mother, age 97, who did him in. Grew tired of her son’s bragging, I suppose… or the bloodshed he left in his wake.”

“Hubie, do not speak to that one.”

@sundrinker.sunder.my “I suppose that did not go as you planned?” The owner of the voice, a man unknown to the Sundrinker, mused from nearby. “The baker is one you should have been wary of from the beginning, but I suppose hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

“And do you enjoy mouth blisters?”

Who is he pointing that at?

“Toxicodendron rubiginosa. Devil’s Hoof, as it is more commonly known to locals. When the oils of the plant come into contact with skin, they cause a blistering rash. Very painful.”

“You may want to spit those out.”

Yes, I’ve been told I’m quite abrasive and too quick-witted for most common folk, like yourself.

We all have our crosses to bear, I suppose.

It would be. The one with the eyebrows. Or was that in a different timeline? It’s so hard to keep track.

I’m sure it would be. I wish you were the Scottish one. Think you can bring back that face or is it just the scruffy one?

“Ah, perfect. Who better to debate with than someone responsible for the death of their own people? I’d love to get a glimpse into your unique perspective.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve been able to have a good debate with someone.“

A quick teleport spell and Percy is back in his own home, tucked in, with a cup of tea next to his bed. It should be the perfect temperature when Percy finally wakes.

“Must I always associate with such stubborn fools?” He tutted, reaching down to move Percy’s face out of the dirt. “Come now. I will take you home.”

“Mhm, yes, I see.” Zan simply raised a hand, pressing a single finger against Percy’s forehead. “Sleep,” he commanded, channeling his magic into the word of power.

“Or, and this is an idea off the top of my head… You get one of your friends to do your errands and you, dare I say, go lie down to prevent anymore rogue spittle from infecting any passersby.”

He blinks a few times, positive he felt a few droplets spray against his face. “You should be in bed, Percival.”

“I have plenty of them. Keep it, good hunter.”

He’d offer a handkerchief.

We are not "born to die". Does a book begin just to finish? Does a song open with a beautiful chord just to end? Yes, we are born with the inevitable fate of death, but that is merely the final act of the play. We are born to love, to be joyous, to act, to feel. We are in fact, born to live.

Correct.

(He considers it for a long moment.) Are we speaking in a literal or metaphorical sense? I have an answer for both.

He reaches into a pocket of his jacket, fishing around before pulling out a small corked bottle. “Enjoy. It is made from the peaches of Flower-Fruit Mountain, in a land far from here.”

Last I heard she was one. Though, who know, perhaps that is no longer the case. Who among us hasn’t been a woman, even if for just a moment.

“Would you like a drink to go with your treat? I believe I have a non-alcoholic cider somewhere.”

Oh, most definitely. Last I heard, she was revealed to be a lich in disguise.

Unfortunately, my schedule didn’t allow for a good laugh. Just a singular one.

Without missing a beat, he continues speaking, eyes now on the goblin. “And that, young one, is the food chain in action. And one day, you too will be felled, whether by beast or time.”

Of course. (Taking a moment, setting the scene.) Ha.

Would you prefer a laugh, clap, or jeer? My schedule is currently open enough to allow for one.