DISCLAIMER [which holds for the entire story]: I do not own LFG or anything pertaining to LFG (though I may own a shirt or two eventually), and I am in no way, shape, or form publishing this fanfiction for profit. Richard, the group, and LFG all belong to Ryan Sohmer and drawn by Lar DeSouza, though some characters may belong to me.
Summary: Richard goes looking for who he is...And who is he? Some may know. Others are dead. Flashbacks pierce his mind, and sometimes he loses grip with reality completely...what did those demons know? No pairings (as of yet), and probably no RichardxOC. Cross your fingers.
Important: This fanfiction, though I would love to write it, must go on hiatus (even though I've been writing it for only a day). I flipped a coin, and the coin says I should continue writing my original book, Playing Chess. I will stop periodically to write chapters to Mystep.
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Okay, this is, like, my fourth fanfic that I've published up here. Please, for those of you who liked the other ones, I have to tell you now: I will probably never finish them.
I took liberties with the LFG universe in this story, as they really don't explain countries and continents and what have you all that well. In this story, they are strictly on their way to find the Sword of Truth or whatever it's called, and it omits the whole thing of the legion attacking the North and the Sons and whatnot. Really, it's very confusing. They should get a synopsis. I've made up my own countries and cities in this one, but if I go against something that's been talked about in the comic prior to the giant battle going on right now (before comic 225), then feel free to point it out.
Oh, and no angst. No real, true, whiny angst, at any rate. This is Richard-type angst.
"I think you made him…whatever he is right now," Benny whispered to Cale. The elf glanced up across the fire and saw Richard's fist burst into flame, only to peter out a few moments later. The warlock did it again and again, staring at his fist thoughtfully.
"What? What did I do?" he asked, confused.
"I'm not sure," admitted Benny. "What did you say to him that made him so fired up—pardon the pun?"
Hours ago, the six of them—Cale, Benny, Richard, Krunch, Pella, and Sooba—had stumbled across a grove of animated trees while traveling. Angry, deadly, animated trees. They had fought back, and Richard had racked up many kills (if they can be called such) with his raging flames, and while they had defended themselves against what Krunch called 'inten,' Cale and Richard traded semi-playful insults back and forth. Maybe, Cale supposed, it had been one of his insults?
"I think I said something about his being undead," he whispered back. "Right after I said it, he turned on the inten and started to incinerate the poor beings."
"Are you two plotting my downfall?" Richard drawled from the other side of the fire. "I see you looking at me. And whispering. The whispering is very suspicious."
Krunch, trying to sleep a short ways from the group, answered: "If anyone were plotting your downfall, it would be me, as revenge for that stunt you pulled earlier today."
"Aw, c'mon," the warlock whined. "I was hungry."
"I do not forgive you."
"By the way, you taste delicious. You're very meaty in the leg, did you know?"
"The next time I want your opinion on my culinary perfection," Krunch grunted, "will be when I'm stewing your head for my tribe to feast upon."
"Hn," was Richard's reply. He went back to watching his fingertips as the fire flickering on them sputtered out, dismissing the rest of the group from his mind.
"Want me to talk to him?" Cale asked, turning back to Benny.
Benny chuckled. "If you want. I'm sure he'll most likely rip your face off, but you're welcome to try." She stood up, brushing her skirt. "As for me, I'm going to hit the hay, like Pella and Krunch."
"Ah. Goodnight, Benny."
"Careful, Cale," she warned before walking away.
As she left, Cale could hear Richard muttering to himself, still playing with his fire.
"Sooba," murmured the warlock. Beside him, the panther stirred slightly. "Do you know…"
But the crackling of the flames drowned out the rest of Richard's sentence as Cale strained to hear him.
"...and I...sometimes...ale..."
Cale started at this. Had he said his name?
For another hour Cale listened to Richard's mumblings, trying to decipher what it was Richard was telling his panther. Once or twice he thought he caught his name again, but he was never sure.
"What are you doing?"
Cale looked up, surprised by Richard's voice so close to him. "I, uh..."
"You were eavesdropping." Richard sat down next to Cale, twirling a ball of fire casually in his hand. "I saw you."
Not one to lie, even to evil beings, Cale nodded sheepishly. "You were talking to Sooba," he pointed out.
"So what if I was?"
Cale paused. Richard had a point.
"Look," he said instead, "I'm sorry if I insulted you earlier. I had no right to say that your former life was full of mockery and embarrassment."
Richard thought on this for a second, tapping his shroud where Cale supposed his chin would be. "I thought it was a bit funny. I mean, after the initial anger, I thought on it and it came to me--Cale cannot be that mean. I had a good laugh at that."
"So...are you okay?"
"I am a shoddy undead, unfeeling, masochistic, sadistic, sarcastic, cynical, lizard-like excuse of a being."
Cale waited.
"Of course I'm okay." Richard suddenly crushed the ball of fire in his fist and stood up. "As okay as anyone else." Without another word, the warlock strode out of the ring of light the fire created, disappearing into the trees surrounding the group.
Cale exhaled. Something was most definitely bothering Richard, and he vowed to find out what it was.
Later, though. Cale's eyelids drooped, though he was worried for the warlock. He would come back, at the latest by the time breakfast was being made, and they would continue their journey to Hilvell.
The elf curled up inside of his own bedroll, asleep in minutes and oblivious to the eyes that watched him from afar.