"Behold the field in which I grow my fucks. Lay thine eyes upon it and see that it is barren." -- Anon Guest
Two adventurers were journeying together down a long and winding road. Almost heedless of what may lie ahead. That was because they were having an argument as they walked.
"Not that I don't want the money, mind," said the first. "It's just that you're so gosh-darn cheerful about dismembering folks. It's off-putting."
"You'd be cheerful, too, if it earned you gemstone levels of money per ounce." The second adventurer was polishing a deboning knife. "Not my fault that that merchant pays better if each piece is properly portioned out, jointed and such." He swept an arm over a relatively clear piece of pasture. "Behold. The field in which I grow mine fucks. Lay thine eyes upon it and see that it is barren."
"It's still people. They had hopes and dreams and such. Maybe a little bit more respect for the lives that're funding your lifestyle? Like... not singing I'm in the Money while you're transferring organs into jars or something?"
"You're free to leave any time you want."
"I can't and you know it. Lissi needs that Wish."
"So pipe down on your moralising and check the shopping list. What else have we got?"
The first speaker unfurled a scroll from their pocket. "Augh... Elf parts. I hate doing Elves. Can't we just... grave rob? I don't like being a murderer."
"What a co-incidence," said a voice behind them. "I'm not very fond of murderers."
The new speaker was exactly what these two were apparently looking for. There was no denying they were an Elf. It was the ears and the long, golden hair. It was a dead give-away. The tongue-clotting beauty was also a significant factor.
"Dren," warned the first. "That one's a wizard."
"Wizard Schmizard," said Dren in what would be his famous last words. "That's a walking fortune in bits and bobs."
They say, Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, with the reasons why ranging from: subtle and quick to anger, through, when you're within fireball range, to, especially when it's Wraithvine the Eternal.
Dren the Dark Magic Sourceman was sent to his favoured merchant in pieces, with an attached note that said, Try to guess which part has a trace spell on it before I find you.
As for his companion Kal... he was still responsible for saving three hundred lives, to match the lives he had reluctantly ended. Not counting Lissi, who got her Wish care of Wraithvine.
Three hundred souls would take a long time to save. The rest of his life, in fact. A fitting end to those who would kill for both Dark Magic and Profit.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / vicspacewalker]
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