Normally when I start a new story I have a big long author's note first. Not sure why. Maybe so I can stall and hear my voice just a little bit longer. Not that I hear my voice when I type. Only the other voices.
But, this time I don't think I have a really long author's note. Oh right, but I do have to mention a few things. Now people familiar with the Discworld books will probably know that there are often footnotes. And people familiar with this site will know that it doesn't show asterisks. (Which is why I have to type action stuff in brackets instead. And it sucks, because it just lacks that certain je ne sais quoi that you get when the actions are between asterisks.) Anywho, so for any footnotes I feel like adding, I'll show a little number in brackets instead of that beautiful asterisk. You'll get used to it.
Aaaand, I also haven't read the last Rincewind book (or maybe there's even more after, but as far as I've heard, there's only the one left) out of the Discworld series (I've only read up to Interesting Times), so if there are some things in this story that don't agree, that is why.
Okay, maybe there will be a big long author's note. Good-good. Hmm... oh yes, this is a "general" story, which means I will try to fit every category in here. Except for drama or angst, most likely, because when do you find THAT in discworld? Well, with Rincewind I suppose you find a lot of moping about and feeling sorry for oneself, but I think that's just a few notches below angsty. And, of course, there will be my sad attempts at humour, there will be action/adventure, blah,blah,blah (lists a few more things), and there will be romance between Rincewind and the OC (when they aren't killing each other, of course), but it will be in brief sessions, because for the middle part of the story they won't even be traveling together. Probably. Unless, of course, I change my mind.
Well, there is my big long author's note that I hadn't thought I was going to have. And now it's time for the story.
Disclaimer: Wait, you forgot meeeeeeeee...
CHAPTER ONE
Rincewind looked up with red-rimmed eyes, through the rather thick, foul-smelling smoky haze, when he heard the bar stool across from him squeak. In no way were sinister or deformed (or, more often, both) figures uncommon in the Mended Drum; indeed, with an eight-foot troll acting as porter and making the decisions of who was suitable for the pub's vicinity, about the least freakish and horrifying thing in there was, well, Rincewind. Of course if a stranger to the Drum heard this statement while seeing the wizard in his present state, they would likely put up a vehement dispute until seeing the rest of the bar's inhabitants. Rincewind's moth-eaten hat, showering sequins like fairy-dust, or, less elegantly but rather more accurately put, like huge flakes of glittering purple dandruff, sagged pitifully to one side due to its drunken owner neglecting its regular administration of him stuffing a fist inside it to straighten up the tip. The silver stitching of "wizzard" on the floppy brim of the hat was almost illegible beneath the dirt and grime covering it. But that wasn't exactly relevant, as the stitching was bad enough that even on the hat's best days it would be a challenge to read. Balls of lint and fluff flecked off Rincewind's voluminous dark red robes, which nowadays looked a little like a very, very old carpet, with a fancy design but nothing else going for it, that was sadly attempting to pose as clothing. The wizard himself looked as was normal for him: slightly confused at the complexity of the search for boredom, or perhaps just confused in general, ready to run for cover any moment, and, at the moment, piss-drunk. He was tall, which suited him just fine, as it meant having long legs, which in turn gave him the advantage over whoever happened to be chasing him with a sharpened stick at the time, and he would have been better off without the beard.
However, the paragraph ahead had originally started out as a description of the mysterious figure sitting across from Rincewind, so let us get back to that. Just the black robe wouldn't have been peanuts in the Drum, but the scythe cradled in two skeletal hands, and the skull grinning from the depths of the cowled hood, well… even in the Drum it was an unsettling thing to see.
So it was lucky no one could see it.
Except Rincewind. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, (or maybe edge would be a better word, as it is unlikely that his mind is large enough to hold any significant depths) a part of him that hadn't succumbed to the fuzzy pleasure of the beer was feeling rather worried, to say the least. But in his present intoxicated state the strongest emotion that managed to penetrate through the walls of drunkenness was a vague interest.
'Hey,' slurred Rincewind, trying to point a finger that was unsteadily tracing circles in the air at the cloaked shape, and managing to focus it on a point somewhere above his left shoulder, 'I know you.'
YES, I BELIEVE WE'VE MET. HEY, IS THAT ANY GOOD? A bony finger –quite a lot bonier than most, in fact- poked out of the wide-cuffed, black sleeve of Death's robe to point at Rincewind's not quite empty glass of the bartender's latest surge of demented inspiration, a drink so potent that it smoked green, billowing clouds, rather than the normal fine misty substance that rises from a good bottle of beer when opened. (But then again, not much on the Discworld was normal.) Rincewind had managed to down three glasses of it, after getting bored with the average beer, which he was pretty much immune to by now.
The failure of a wizard shrugged. ''S got me this far. What brings you here?' Hopefully not business, he thought.
OH, YOU KNOW. BUSINESS.
Damn. 'So who's about to die?" Rincewind hazarded, casting a suddenly, startlingly close-to-sober, suspicious glance at the remnants of his smoking drink and hoping it wasn't him.
Death nudged his chin in the direction of a hooded figure sitting solitary in the corner of a room. Their face was hidden by the shadow of their hood, as is customary with solitary mysterious figures in bars, but no doubt they were peering about with the experienced gaze of a skilled fighter who was suspicious of everyone. A pity they were about to die.
THAT'S THE ONE. I HAVE IT ON GOOD AUTHORITY THAT THEY'RE NEXT, SO I JUST POPPED IN FOR A VISIT.
'Cheery. I don't suppose there's any way I could prevent it? Without, of course, having to exert myself and getting into trouble again,' he added hastily. Even when drunk, his cowardice never faltered. Death shrugged.
PROBABLY. IT WAS A VERY SLOPPY MEMO, HARD TO READ. PRETTY UNCERTAIN. I GUESS IT'S ALL UP TO WHAT KIND OF MOOD FATE'S IN RIGHT NOW. YOU COULD TRY.
'Nah,' Rincewind decided, downing the rest of his glass. 'How much time do they have?'
Death propped his scythe in the crook of one arm while the other drew out an hour-glass from the folds of his robe. The bottom half looked quite full. ABOUT HALF A MINUTE, Death said.
'That's too bad.' Rincewind looked longingly into his empty glass. Despite the burning effects and the fifteen minutes of life taken off for every sip, he would have liked another of the drinks.
Death looked surprised. NO GUILTY CONSCIENCE?
Rincewind looked at the figure, oblivious to their oncoming doom. 'Not really. It won't be messy, will it?'
I TOLD YOU, THE MEMO WAS VAGUE. I DON'T KNOW.
Rincewind hesitated. He didn't want to start getting involved in dumb things, but he was getting a bit of a guilty conscience. Supposedly he had a chance of preventing someone from death; shouldn't he try? 'No,' he muttered to himself, but he was already getting unsteadily to his feet. He decided he would just talk a bit to the person and see if their death was anything he could prevent, but if it meant embarking on strange new quests, he would just let them die.
He approached the table and sat across from the stranger. Eyes that resembled empty sockets in the shadow of a cowled hood looked up at him in a not very friendly way. Rincewind hoped when they died they didn't kill him, too.
'Er. Hello,' he faltered. They didn't answer. Rincewind found this rather rude. 'How's… life?' he ventured, not sure if the person was aware of their impending doom.
'I don't really have time,' the person stated. Rincewind started at the female voice; he had thought the stranger was a bloke. He also started at their answer; he wasn't sure if they were merely stating that they didn't have time to talk with him, or if they were answering his question. The shadowed face shifted to look at something over Rincewind's shoulder. Instinctively he turned to see what, and was startled to see that they were peering straight in the direction of Death, who tapped the hourglass significantly, nodding his grinning skull. The person sighed.
'Wait a tick,' Rincewind said in confusion. 'You can see him?'
The person looked back at him and opened their mouth to say something. At that moment there was a loud thunk and a grunt from the doorway. Rincewind turned to see the poor troll lying like a shattered rock across the threshold. Standing in the doorway was a short, portly little man with a bald head and a long moustache braided into two thin strands that curved around his mouth and dangled below his chin. He had abnormally white teeth against rather dark skin. He actually looked more like a shopkeeper than someone who could take out a troll with one swing of a club, which he held in one chubby arm, but a thick belt looped around his waist held sheaths for numerous unfriendly-looking weapons, and that in itself scratched "shopkeeper", for one, off the "possible jobs" list.
'Let me guess,' Rincewind called to Death. 'The thirty seconds are up.'
The man, who had turned and headed in a beeline towards the table which Rincewind and the hooded lady sat at, glanced from his first target to Rincewind. His gaze shifted to the wizard's hat. A puzzled expression flickered across his face for a second, and then polite disbelief. 'Well,' he chuckled at the figure sitting across from Rincewind. 'I guess you were telling the truth.'
'Huh? Oh. Yeah,' the female voice answered, a bit nervously, but smoothing over. 'This is the one.'
'Hold on,' Rincewind said nervously, but they didn't take notice. All he knew was when people started saying he was 'the one', it couldn't mean well. Pretty soon they'd be needing a Great Wizard again.
The chubby man turned his back on the cloaked stranger to look Rincewind in the eye. 'You're the wizard?'
Not hearing any capitalized letters, Rincewind relaxed a bit. It couldn't be that important if the letters weren't capitalized. 'Er,' he started. Over the short man's shoulder, he saw the shadowed face nod slowly. Remembering how this person was on death's door, or at least the walkway, he decided for the good of them, he'd better agree. If going along with this mysterious little conversation saved a life, he might as well put in a bit of effort; it's not like it was too hazardous to his health. 'Yeah,' he said with a small shrug. 'See the hat?' He pointed.
The world blossomed into a flash of pain. Wait a minute, Rincewind thought, in his last few moments of consciousness, I find this a bit unfair. I never said I'd sacrifice myself to save this other person. He made a mental note not to trust ladies that you found in taverns.
Please review. Remember, flames are useful when the matches don't work and I have marshmallows, so go ahead and flame. Then I will eat my roasted marshmallows and laugh evilly while writing another chapter that will hopefully piss off the flamers as successfully as this one did. Anyway, I have no idea when the next chapter will come up, but I'll probably get lazy on the descriptions and hence it will be less well-written but more fast paced. Or maybe I won't. At any rate, hopefully the next chapter will be up within the month, unless I am still banned from the computer, and I will try to update sooner if I get reviews. Because that means I have people waiting for another chapter. And if I don't get reviews, I'll lose that incentive to hurry and update. I'm rambling again, so ciao!