ShadowLore: Psalms of the Nite Ch1

By: AGCedenoIV Mood: Energy overflowing Date: Jul 09, 2008 Music: None

Historically, Lanzire has been the breeding grounds of many atrocities that somehow managed to leak out, and spread across Elitavia. Before the Great Wars the continent served as Human Farmlands. If you couldn’t find the grade of Human you wanted in Lanzire, you weren’t going to find it anywhere else! Coincidentally, Lanzire is also where GuildQuest was founded. The very first GQ office still stands, fully functional in the small city of Choice.

            Bakeneko sits inside the lobby of GQ Station №1, flipping through a catalogue of rare and legendary treasures. The morose Atarian pulls her fingers through the silky red hair draped over the right side of her furry tan face, and sighs heavily.

            “There’s no way I’ll be able to raise enough gold to bring Tsukemono in,” she complained to herself. “I mean honestly, most of the stuff in this book one would have to have an army to acquire, or at least be filthy rich to begin with!” Reluctantly she flipped through a few more pages until she reached “Index 29: Magikal & Legendary Creatures”, and it was there the Atarian found the one item that not only she had some remote chance of obtaining, but it could also bring to her unimaginable wealth! “Purrrfect!” Bakeneko cooed, dog-earing the treasure’s info page.

            Anxiously she stood in the GQ Registration line, feeling the moments drag along like a crippled snail in a salt mine. After five minutes, she’d finally reached the front of the line, and too her horror the purser placed a “Closed” sign on the counter. In the distance Bakeneko could hear a malicious cackle taunting her. She reached across the counter and grabbed the employee by the collar of his red and gold uniform. “Whaddaya mean you’re closed?” she yelled, “I stood in that shlouby line for like…forever! And now you’re closed?”

            The GQ employee removed her hand from his collar, and slowly turned around. He was a Human, five-foot-six, heavy-set, with a receding hairline. Despite the killjoy glare in his eyes, Bakeneko believed that she could best him if a battle ensued.

            “It’s my lunch break!” he breathed through gritted teeth at the unflinching Atarian.

            “I don’t care if it’s your Last Meal, you tubby bastard!” she snapped. “I want a party --”

            “I’ve had about enough of you pathetic, so-called adventurers!” the purser shouted. “Day and night, it’s always ‘Party, Party, Party!’ without a moments rest! You’re all so hopped up on potions and elixirs that you forget your own mortality!”

            Bakeneko stared at the disgruntled employee, her lavender eyes blank with confusion.

            “Listen, you walking fur ball,” he continued, “here in the ‘Real World’ we hard working, honest types need three things to survive: food, a comfortable shelter to rest in, and monies to pay for the afore mentioned. In order to acquire the later, we decent level headed types work for it, instead of running about killing and destroying for it like good little robots of the system. And it’s because we choose to travel a path of life free of the bloodshed of the innocent that we must eat and sleep, for those wonderful bottles and flasks of chemically enhanced slow and imminent death are only available to sociopathic shloub eaters such as yourself.”

            Bakeneko raised a brow contemptuously. “I understand,” she said, memorizing the nametag on his blazer, “ Kevin, it must be awful being a Human, but I didn’t wait in that line just to hear your bitter rant on the plights of your incompetent little universe. Are you going to assign me a party, or not?”

            Kevin’s eyes narrowed, as his right eye began to involuntarily twitch. He made an obscene gesture with his left hand, and quickly disappeared behind a red curtain, leaving Bakeneko standing at the counter dumbstruck and alone.

            “Of all the…” she started, but somehow the rest of the words escaped her.

            “Cocky little buggers, aren’t they?” asked a voice from behind her.

            Bakeneko turned suddenly to find a man dressed in a black leather trench coat and matching pants. A navy blue button down shirt brought out the blue flecks in his grey eyes. He looked Human, five-ten, and average build for a middle-aged man, but there was something off about him. He didn’t smell Human. In fact he smelled somewhat…familiar…

             “And to think years ago that one could’ve fed a family of four,” he continued, “but now all he’s concerned about is stuffing his own belly. The selfish bastard!”

            Bakeneko stared curiously at the man. “Is there something you wanted?”

            “My name’s Ishikawa,” he said as he smiled and extended a clean and perfectly smooth hand for her to shake. “I believe your name is Bakeneko. I’m thinking that you are in a desperate way for a group right now, am I correct so far?”

            Bakeneko’s scepticism raised a few bars on the meter. “Are you some kind of stalker?” she asked, “Because if you are, I feel it’s only fair to warn you that I know some pretty powerful spells, and I won’t hesitate to fry you where you stand!” She’d heard rumours of GQ fanatics in Lanzire. Basically, they were people who couldn’t afford to join GuildQuest, but still subscribed to their ShadowLore magazine. They somehow developed a warped fetish attraction to the heroes and would seek them out trying to snag personal artefacts from them and selling them at high costs on black-markets. Bakeneko had never been in an issue of the zine, but then again she rarely even picked one up unless it was to smash a spider or something.

            “I assure you, my intentions are pure and noble,” he laughed. “I see a damsel in distress, and I feel compelled to assist. What else can I say?”

            “What’s your class and skill level?”

            “I’m a Rogue,” he answered, “and a devilishly handsome one too, might I add!”

            “Whatever,” said Bakeneko, as she rolled her eyes in disgust. Sometimes being an Atarian was difficult simply for the fact that the opposite sex of just about every species found female Atarians irresistible. Most of the parties she ended up with only had her along so that they could have something pretty to look at, or to boost their egos by deliberately placing her in danger just so that they could boast about saving her life later. “Skill level?”

            “I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information,” he answered, “I’m sort of a Secret Questor.”

            “I’ve never heard of anything so geut-shlouby in my life!” she laughed.

            Ishikawa smiled wryly. “Not surprising,” he said, folding his arms, “otherwise I couldn’t very well be called a secret.”

            “Well, your secret’s out now,” she said as she poked him in the chest with a furry finger. “You’re a shlouby noob! Time is money, and I don’t have either to waste on resurrection spells for an inexperienced pickpocket like you!”

            “Pickpocket!” he exclaimed, “I approach you courteously, and you have the audacity to insult me? If I wasn’t--” Ishikawa was interrupted by a large rough looking pink hand that suddenly gripped his shoulder. Following the arms length up, he found that it was attached to a very large, broad shouldered Ogre!

            “S’cuse me, Miss,” said the Ogre, “but is this bum disturbing you?”

            Bakeneko blushed, taking full advantage of her innate charm. “Well, actually…” she began.

            “Honey,” Ishikawa pleaded in a calm and relaxed tone, “tell him I wasn’t disturbing you, and that he should keep his big ugly Ogre nose out of other people’s conversations.”

            The Ogre effortlessly lifted Ishikawa off of the floor by his neck single handed, and brought the humanoid closer to his scrawling face. “Come again?” he snarled through large greenish-brown teeth.

            “To be quite honest,” Bakeneko grinned, “I don’t know the guy. He must have crawled up out of the Noobie Pit.”

            The Ogre grinned evilly, as his grip tightened around Ishikawa’s neck. Ishikawa was at a loss for words as he suddenly found himself flying through the air, hurdling towards a large chute with a sign posted above it, with the words ‘New Arrivals’ etched in black crayon. He then turned his attention to Bakeneko. “I am Aramis,” he said, “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with that shlouby guy. If you need a party, my group wouldn’t mind if you tagged along…”

            “Really?” Bakeneko beamed. “You’re gonna’ let me join your party?”

            “Sure,” said Aramis, “And because you’re so cute, we’ll only charge you five hundred gold pieces!”

            Bakeneko’s ears drooped to the sides of her head. “It figures,” she grumbled.

            “Plus three hundred gold for supplies and travel expenses,” the Ogre added.

Bakeneko’s eyes began to water. “Eight hundred gold?” she exclaimed, “But that’s all the monies I have left!”

“It’s chump change,” said the Ogre. “Just think about all the gold and fame you’ll receive after the quest is over.”

Bakeneko thought about it for a second and realized that the Ogre was right. She honestly couldn’t accomplish much of anything all by herself, and eight hundred gold pieces wasn’t good for anything normally. “Okay,” she said holding out a furry paw, “you have a deal!”

“Great!” Aramis said shaking her hand, “Let me go sign in, and then we’ll be on our way! The guys are gonna’ love you!”

Bakeneko smiled awkwardly as the Ogre bounded off down a corridor. Once again she been selected not for her skills as an adventurer, but as some kind of beauty accessory; a cute cuddly mascot to a group of clumsy overbearing oafs! “I guess beggars can’t be choosers,” she sighed, as she rummaged through her pockets in search of her coin pouch. She returned to the couch she was sitting on earlier and checked beneath the cushions, but the purse wasn’t there either! A feeling of dread over took Bakeneko as she realized that she’d been pick-pocketed!

Suddenly, a feeling of rage and blood thirst washed over her, as she realized whom the culprit was! “Ishikawa…” she growled as she stomped off towards the Beginners’ Lobby.

The Novice Arena, or the Noobie Pit as it has been coined, was practically packed from corner to corner with fresh, eager questors. Ishikawa who liked to favour himself as an opportunist took this minor setback as time to reflect, regroup, and refinance. Already he’d taken in slightly over three hundred gold playing a well-known card game among Rogues called ‘Get Shloubed’. GS is played much like Poker, but with sixty-five cards instead of fifty-two. The added thirteen cards are all cards with a picture of a Shloub on them.

The object of the game is to have the highest hand without a Shloub card. Any mark with a Shloub card loses the bet. If the dealer has a Shloub card all the marks lose the bet, and the dealer takes the entire pot. And Ishikawa almost certainly always had a Shloub card up his sleeve!

“I can’t believe I lost again!” cried a young Elvin questor. “That was my entire earnings from my last quest!”

“I told you, the game is rigged,” said his human companion. “I don’t know why you never listen to me?”

Ishikawa collected the cards and the bountiful kitty from the table and stuffed it all into his side pouch. “I assure you, lads, that I always play a fair game! What say you, uh…what did you say your name was?” he asked nodding to the bashful-eyed Chiba-Ken sitting across to his right.

The Chiba-Ken’s long, thick fluffy rabbit –like ears perked upright as if suddenly startled, and then flopped back down over his tiny shoulders. “The name’s Schopenhaure, Sir.”

“Would you say I play a fair game, Schopenhaure?” Ishikawa asked, trying to keep his expression serious, but friendly at the same time.

“To be quite honest, Sir,” Schopenhaure began, “given the odds of winning for any card game, it is often the players’ luck that determines the final outcome. I’ve won three hands today, so I consider myself lucky.”

“There, you see?” said Ishikawa. “The bunny says it was all about luck, and you were just having some bad…care to try again? I mean your luck has to change at some point, right?”

The Human questor snatched his companion out of the seat and herded the Elf away from the table. “That’s quite alright,” he snapped. “There just doesn’t seem to be enough luck to go around at this table.”

“What are you complaining about?” the Elf sneered as they pushed their way into the crowd, “I’m the one that lost money!”

“Half of that money was mine!” the Human snapped back.

Ishikawa beamed with pride as he retrieved a handful of gold coins from his pouch. “There’s nothing quite as rewarding as taking bright gold from dim halfwits,” he sighed.

“I would prefer that you wouldn’t refer to me as the bunny, Sir,” said Schopenhaure. “I am a Chiba-Ken!”

“Calm down, will you?” Ishikawa whispered as he cautiously scanned the room for anyone that noticed his partner’s outburst. “You want to get us killed, Shibby?”

“No,” Shibby replied in a loud whisper, “I want a little more respect out of you…and my share of the winnings!”

“What do you call that tasty pile of gold coins in front of you?”

“That’s the same gold as with which I started,” said Shibby. “No thanks to you or your stupid crooked game!”

“It’s not rigged,” Ishikawa contested, “you said so yourself! I can even bring forth witnesses that heard you.”

“Perhaps, I’ve had an epiphany? Besides, who do you think they’d believe; you, or a cute innocent bunny?”

“All I can see in front of me is a conniving, shameless, backstabbing Chiba-Ken…” he tossed a few extra gold coins onto the table. “There…happy?”

Schopenhaure quickly added the gold coins to his already meagre pile, and shovelled them all into his side pouch. “If happy is being defined as feeling inadequate, unappreciated, and underpaid…then yes.”

“Stop it,” groaned Ishikawa, “you’re starting to sound like my ex-wife.”

“I keep forgetting that someone actually managed to tie you down,” Shibby laughed. “Whatever happened to that one special creature that finally outsmarted the Great Ishikawa?”

“She died…”

A look of panicked horror fell over Shibby’s face. “That’s not what you told me! You told me she got tired of…a-a-and s-she left--”

“Died. Left me to myself. Same difference.” He looked over his shoulder at the entrance, as if expecting someone to rush through the door at any moment. “But, she left me a beautiful, intelligent daughter --”

“Not terribly intelligent, seeing as she’s joined up in our little circle…” Shibby sided. The Chiba-Ken saw the glare in Ishikawa’s eyes, and impassively wrapped his ears around his tiny body, like a fluffy, furry, lavender cocoon.

“Anatolia was one of the few precious treasures in my life I didn’t have to acquire through…less than honourable means.”

Shibby slowly unwrapped himself as a large, glistening tear trickled from each of his enormous bright green eyes. “She will be missed, Sir.”

“No, she won’t,” said Ishikawa, bursting with excitement, “Not if our plan works!”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Sir?”

“I have a second precious,” Ishikawa explained. “The only problem is that she doesn’t know about me.”

“That is a problem, Sir,” Shibby agreed. “Perhaps if we were to go to her mother, and ask to be introduced?”

“She doesn’t know her mother either…at least, not her real mother,” he scratched his head, trying to plan his next move. “I left her on the doorstep of a nice Atarian widow years ago…It’s a rather long story, and I don’t feel it’s honourable sharing it with you before she hears it.”

Schopenhaure looked past his distraught leader and into the eyes of the bloodthirsty Atarian standing behind him; dagger ready in hand, and prepared to scalp the unsuspecting Rogue. “It would seem to me, Sir, that you’d be able to explain the situation easier, if you practiced first?”

Ishikawa sighed heavily. Schopenhaure was many things; a coward, a petty nit-picking son-of-a-Shloub, and in many cases more two-faced than he was; but there were times like these when the overgrown rodent proved to be his most loyal ally. “Fine,” he breathed, “I’ll explain…

“It had been a few years after I’d left my family in search of the Chronos Sitar. The Molgar festivals on Claubane can get pretty crazy, so I really wasn’t thinking with the right head at the time…I drank too much ale!” He looked at Shibby, and seeing the worried Chiba-Ken nibbling worrisomely on his lower lip informed him that his story was going awry. “I met this Elf girl at the festival,” he continued, “she was beautiful – More than beautiful! She was enchanting! It was like her entire being was…a…a…”

“She was breathtaking, Sir?” said Shibby, helping his friend to finish his sentence, before the Atarian behind him sentenced him to a gory finish. “Her presence so magnificent, that words cannot describe?”

“Exactly!” Ishikawa agreed. “So, we were talking, drinking, having fun…before you know it, I’m popping the lock on her tender box, if you catch my meaning?”

“Different choice of words, Sir?” Shibby whimpered.

Ishikawa crossed his eyes, “What are you, five years old?” he laughed.

“I’m assuming that when you speak to your daughter of these things, you will be more tactful? That you’ll show her that you are not in fact a philandering con artist?”

“Yeh, yeh, sure,” he said waving away the thought. “I’ll use all the pretty stuff; words like love and entangled hearts, all the mushy, sissy stuff people like you go for.” He smirked at his friend who began to draw a finger slowly across his furry little neck. “Anyway,” Ishikawa continued, “some months later, I receive a Royal Summons from the Golden Elf Kingdom. As it turns out, that Elf was the princess, and not only that, but I knocked her up!”

“Oh, dear Goddess,” Schopenhaure cried as he buried his face in one of his ears.

“Tell me about it!” agreed Ishikawa. “And she expected me to take care of the baby! I mean I understand the Elves have this fear of a Half-breed eating the world or something, but what if my wife found out? She’d kill me!”

“You were about to describe a heartfelt and noble act that exceeds all the horrible things you’ve confessed thus far?” Shibby asked from behind his ear, too afraid to witness Ishikawa’s untimely demise.

“Fine,” he said almost sorry he wasted his time on someone with such a weak stomach, “so I took Bakeneko, and dropped the little nipple-nibbler on the old widow’s doorstep. I believed she’d have a better life. I told the widow not to ever mention who her birth parents were, and to raise her with love and respect…to give her a life full of honour and dignity, so that she wouldn’t turn out like her old man…”

Ishikawa heard a blade clang to the floor behind him, and his body snapped around to see Bakeneko standing before him, her eyes watering and her body trembling.

“Bakeneko?”

“Papa?” she asked, wiping tears onto her tan fur, “Is it really you?”

Ishikawa jumped out of his chair and threw his arms wide, welcoming his long lost daughter into an embrace. “Honey, I’ve missed you so—”

Bakeneko landed a heavy punch right into Ishikawa’s gut. The Rogue doubled over gasping for air. “Where’s my money, you old fool?” she demanded.

Schopenhaure giggled and shook with glee in his chair. “I like her already, Sir!” he cheered. “I can tell she’s kin to yours. She’s got the same left hook!”

            “After returning Bakeneko’s gold, and taking a few moments to recover from the sudden blow to his gut, Ishikawa invited his long lost daughter and his trusty companion to have dinner with him to celebrate the wonderful reunion! And what better place to commemorate such an occasion than the Golden Ox Tavern?” a synthetically enthused voice echoed throughout the tavern, as soon as the trio approached the archway.

            “The Golden Ox Tavern has the largest selection of ales and grog in the Eastern Hemisphere of Elitavia! And the homebrewed wines will always keep you in good spirits! And where else can you find the tastiest, juiciest grilled schargle-trump burgers for the unbelievable price of three for one gold-pieces? With beautiful barmaids, excellent service, and food to die for; it’s no wonder why the Golden Ox was voted ‘№1’ in ShadowLore magazine ten years in a row! So, Questors, when you want good food remember, you can’t spell good without G-O; and G-O stands for Golden Ox! Golden Ox Tavern, the eatery choice of GuildQuest! G-O-T Ox?”

            “That’s rather unnerving,” Bakeneko shivered as she walked through the swinging doors of the tavern. “Where the shloub are they getting all that information?”

            “It’s all in your head,” Ishikawa replied.

            “She’s not insane, Sir,” Shibby spoke up, “I heard it as well!”

            “No, I mean the announcer,” said Ishikawa, “There’s a chip inside all GuildQuest participants. It records all their thoughts and experiences. That way, there’s no fudging of the facts in their stupid magazine; also, it gives other corporate shloubs who like to diversify the opportunity to do so with sensors in the doors, that announce their target’s last few traumatic moments to the world!”

            “I don’t like this place,” whined Bakeneko.

            “I’m not too crazy about this particular G.O.,” Ishikawa agreed as he pulled a chair out for his daughter, “but they are right about the food being ‘to die for’. Besides, I’m starving, and as long as we don’t discuss anything The Powers might find threatening, we should be let alone to enjoy a nice delicious meal!”

            “What powers?” asked Bakeneko, curious as to what other secrets her Old Man was keeping from her, “Why would they think we were a threat?”

            “Don’t you realize by now?” said Shibby, shocked at the Atarian’s naivety. “Ishikawa’s is the --”

            Ishikawa quickly grabbed a dinner roll from the centrepiece basket on the table and underhandedly flung the stale pastry straight into the loose-tongued Chiba-Ken’s mouth; where it lodged, like a crusty sound barrier between his lower jaw and his bunny overbite.

“I’m hungry,” he said picking up a menu, “Aren’t you hungry, Bakeneko? I’m ordering a pint of grog…you should be old enough to drink by now, right? I’ll just get you a glass of wine. You don’t look like a drinker, but I hate to drink alone…”

“What aren’t you telling me, Old Man?” she demanded, snatching the menu from his hands. “I’m sure you didn’t just wake up one day and think, ‘Oi! I wonder whatever became of that poor little bastard child I abandoned so many moons ago? I think I’ll drop in on the little bugger and buy her some crumpets and mead; that should smooth things over quite nicely!” Angry, Bakeneko began to beat Ishikawa in his head with the menu, “I wasn’t born yesterday, you cheeky sod! I hate you already! Why did you have to come and ruin my life, now? As if things weren’t shloubed enough for me already?” Bakeneko, after her venting fit, dropped the menu and buried her furry face in her paws and began to cry.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” said Ishikawa, “Trust me, the last thing I ever wanted to do was disturb your perfect little life, but I had no other choice!”

“We need your help, Bakeneko,” added Shibby, after finally managing to pry the dinner roll from his mouth. “You’re our only hope!”

Bakeneko sniffled and wiped the tears from her face. “Why should I want to help you?” she asked.

“Because I’d do anything for you if you were in trouble,” Ishikawa answered.

“No, you wouldn’t,” she said, “you haven’t even so much as written me a letter in my whole life! I’m twenty-six years old now! That’s one-hundred and seventy three Human years…shouldn’t you be dead by now?’

“The fact that I’m sitting here with you right now is proof of how much I care about you, honey,” said Ishikawa, “I’ve cheated time; the natural order of life and death, just to see how well my favourite daughter grew up!”

“Your favourite?” Bakeneko exclaimed, “How many of us bastard half-breeds did you drop on your journeys, Old Man?”

“You aren’t a bastard, dear,” Ishikawa reprimanded, “and I never want to hear you refer to your self as one ever again! I don’t have any illegitimate children…that I know of…but in any case, I always find the time to drop in and say hello, and to let them know that I love them. No matter how shlouby-geut this situation might seem right now, I want you to know that my love was always with you, and it always will be!”

A single tear rolled down Schopenhaure’s chubby little cheek. “That was beautiful, Sir,” he whimpered, “I want you to know, that if I ever found out who my papa was I’d want him to be as good a man as you are!”

“Chances are this bum probably is your dad,” Bakeneko sneered, abruptly getting up from the table, “and the sperm donor to at least half a dozen of the other poor bastards in here! I’ve had enough of this blarney. I’m walking!”

“Gold!” shouted Ishikawa, “At least two hundred thousand in gold! I know where it is, and how to get it.”

Bakeneko stopped dead in her tracks, fighting the painful urge to return to the table.

“I know about your friend Tsukemono,” he continued, “the Atarian mechanic, back in your hometown? She’s the one who told me where to find you.”

“That traitor,” Bakeneko growled, “I’ll skin her alive!”

“Don’t be angry with Tsukemono,” said Ishikawa, “she understood that you needed help. And now, here I am! So, come on back and sit down, maybe have a drink?”

Reluctantly, Bakeneko returned to her chair. “Two hundred thousand gold?” she asked.

“Actually, it’s far more than two hundred thousand –” Shibby began, before Ishikawa stuffed another roll in his mouth.

“Okay,” Ishikawa admitted, “it is more than that, but I was really offering you the two hundred as payment for your help.”

“How much more?” Bakeneko asked.

“Let’s just say it worth a king’s ransom and just leave it at that,” said Ishikawa smiling wryly.

Bakeneko pushed her claws to her father’s neck and gave him the same wry smile. “Let’s just say you spill it, before I spill you all over this table, savvy?”

“She has your smile, Sir” said Shibby excitedly, happy to see the two of them finally getting on. “And her thirst for wealth and fame; that’s definitely from your side!”

“Shut it, Shibby!” snapped Bakeneko, “Or else I’ll sling-shot you into a river by your ears!”

Even though a warm comforting feeling washed over jubilant the Chiba-Ken, he resisted the urge to break into song, and promptly wedged the roll back into his own mouth.

“What’s it going to be, Old Man?” she asked, drawing a drop of blood from his neck. It disturbed her slightly that Ishikawa didn’t even flinch. Usually, people ran in terror whenever an Atarian drew their claws. There’s nothing pretty about being shredded to death by seven inch long, one-and-a-half inch thick, naturally ready sharp nails!

“I’ll tell you,” he finally agreed, “but not in here.” He looked around at the rafters and walls. “There’s too many ears in this place. Right now, the three of us are going to enjoy a lovely meal, and perhaps a few laughs. We can talk shop afterwards.”

            Shibby motioned for a waitress and almost instantly a female Human in a waitress uniform three sizes too small for her gifted frame shimmied towards their table.

            “Welcome to the Golden Ox!” she cheered, “Are any of you Vegetarians?”

            “Oh, how lovely!” Shibby squealed, “I guess they really do read the suggestion boxes after all?” He winked merrily at Bakeneko, “I’ve been to over eighty different G.O. locations, and there was never anything on the menu I could digest! I’d always have to fill up on bread. Not a very healthy diet for a growing Chiba-Ken!”

            The waitress smiled pleasantly at the overly excited Chiba-Ken. “Today’s special is steamed cabbage with garlic cloves, over a bed of baby carrots, in a light gato-fruit sauce.”

            “That sounds wonderful!” beamed Shibby, “I’ll have that! On second thought, make that two servings,” he laughed heartily, “I won’t be eating any bread tonight!”

            “Do you still serve any real food in this place?” asked Bakeneko. “I’m starving, and I don’t fancy anything that didn’t bleed just to satisfy me!”

            Ishikawa tried his best to refrain from laughing. “The young lady is wondering if you have anything like chicken or duck, maybe some kind of beef dish or roast pork?”

            “Of course we do, silly!” the waitress laughed, shaking her head. “Tonight we’re offering Smoked Chu-Chu Lapin, stuffed with garlic and cabbage, smothered in a carrot and gato-fruit gravy…”

            Shibby suddenly fell out of his chair and onto the floor with a squishy thud.

            “That sounds delicious!” said Bakeneko liking her lips, despite the sudden paleness of Ishikawa’s face. “Don’t tell me you’re a grass muncher too?”

            Ishikawa shook his head. “No,” he answered, “but Chu-Chu Lapin is a dish usually served in Troll governed territories…”

            Bakeneko glared at the waitress, whom seemed to have had that unnerving smile surgically attached to her pink flesh. “Are you trying to get me to eat some kind of slimy, smelly Troll chow?”

            “I wouldn’t do that,” the waitress denied. “You requested something like chicken, and seeing how most of the chickens, cows, and other common livestock have mysteriously vanished from Lanzire; we’ve had to improvise until our shipment from the New World continents arrive.”

            “Chiba-Kens do not taste like chicken!” shouted Shibby as he hopped onto the table, kicking the basket of stale bread into the shocked waitress’s face.

            Confused, Bakeneko was about to ask Schopenhaure to get down, when Ishikawa gently placed his hand on her shoulder and whispered into her ear…

            “Chu-Chu Lapin is Troll for Chiba-Ken.”

            “I can’t fathom why any race thought yours to be any less uncivilized,” Shibby continued to rant, waving a furry fist at the Human, “and you’re all as insensitive and cannibalistic as the Trolls!”

            Ishikawa could see that his friend was beginning to draw attention, as a table of large angry looking Trolls grunted and cracked their knuckles. Without hesitation, he grabbed Schopenhaure under one arm and his daughter with the other, dragging them both kicking and screaming out of the tavern.

            “What’s the big idea?” Bakeneko complained. “I didn’t even get to order any food!”

            “No one makes a meal out of me!” shouted Shibby. “They should’ve kept you sick creatures in the stables! Shloubed if they were over crowded and rot with disease; it’s not like the trip to the slaughter house was weeks away!”

            “Quiet!”

            Silenced and surprised, the Atarian and the Chiba-Ken stare blankly at Ishikawa.

            “I wanted this to be a nice, peaceful meal. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had a chance to sit inside an upscale tavern without being noticed.”

            “Who’d give a shlouby-geut about you?” asked Bakeneko.

            Ishikawa took a deep breath, “I am the thief known as ‘The Shadow’,” he said.

            “The what?”

            “The Shadow,” he repeated. “You know, the world’s most famous, notorious thief? The leader of the Bandit Guild called Eclipse?”

            Bakeneko shook her head. “Sorry,” she replied, “I’ve never heard of you.”

            A sudden feeling of uselessness washed over Ishikawa as the truth finally struck him.

            “If I may, Sir?” asked Shibby noticing the falter in his leader’s ego. He took the Atarian’s hand in his own, and tried to explain their situation. “Bakeneko, your father is a very important individual,” he began. “He has outstanding bounties on his head as great as five hundred thousand gold coins!”

            “Why hasn’t he been caught?” she asked. “I mean I’d turn him in myself if I knew who was offering the reward!” She didn’t notice Ishikawa gripping his chest feigning an attack. “Let’s be honest, Shibby. He’s worth more to the both of us dead, or alive it doesn’t matter, right? We could split the gold!”

            “I’m standing right here!” shouted Ishikawa.

            “Ishikawa, your father, is the only person the Dark Elf King entrusts the secret mission to!”

            &ldquo