Okay, people. Here is the side notes on this in a paragraph….duh. This is based off my comedy 'Life With My Boys' (ahem, read it!). The original compiles a crap load of random people into…well, a pile of rubbish. This novel-like version has only Drizzt, Entreri and Jaraxle. I wanted to write it so there.
As her car rattled speedily into the irrigation ditch, Corrine remembered in a brief, ironic flash as to what her day had been. Shit, if she was going to die, might as well have the last few hours of her life engrained in her disembodied soul. She had an eggie-in-a-basket for breakfast, went to work at seven a.m., dealt with crabby sick people in the Fallon hospital, had to reject Jason once more on a date, had a bowl of ramen for lunch and was just driving home at six p.m. on the country lane. Loudly off key, she had been singing to Uncle Kracker's You Make Me Smile when it happened; something had to jump in front of the car and she had to swerve 'cause goddamn it all, hitting a cow at 50 miles an hour would wreck it!
The world bounced crazily in the flashing headlights as the car ground to a stop, the right front end lifted up on the opposite side of the ditch. Pushing out the breath of air that was stuck in her tight chest, Corrine blinked at how quickly that all happened. Taking a deep breath, she loosened the claw grip she had on her steering wheel and took off her seat belt.
"What the fuck?" the woman mumbled dazedly, as if unsure that she was really off the road in her truck stop hometown. Turning about in her seat she glanced to the road, startled to see nothing there. "Jesus Christ, what was that?"
Corrine was just reaching for the door handle when a long, silvery blade pierced the roof at her right side, screeching as metal scraped metal. Screaming in horrified fright, she flattened herself to the door, frantically reaching for the exit.
"Ah! Hell! What the hell?!" she cried in a panic as the door swung open behind her and the blade retracted gracefully. With a thud, Corrine landed on her back in the dirt, a good two feet from the car seat. Some psycho just stabbed her car! What the hell?
Scrambling to her feet, she backed away from the accident, wide eyes trying to see in the dark of the Nevada night. Nothing stood atop her vehicle and no sound echoed to her beating heart except the sound of cattle in the distance.
"Did I imagine that? No fucking way," she immediately countered, taking only one step closer to peer at the clean splice in the roof. "That had happened."
"Indeed it had, as will your imminent demise if you take one more wrong move," replied a voice from behind her, low and promising. Freezing at that, Corrine sucked in her breath and prayed that it wasn't a rapist. The voice in itself was frightening; cold, hard and silver like the blade.
"Okay, okay, okay, I'm not moving, dude," the woman spluttered in fear, raising her hands to her sides in surrender. "Just don't rape me."
"Woman, do not be ridiculous. Why did you attempt attacking us?" the man's voice demanded sharply, apparently insulted by her statement. Corrine licked her dry lips and resisted the urge to turn around, especially now that there was the definitive tip of a knife to her spine.
"I…uh-didn't? I was driving and-and I went around a corner and something jumped in front of my car and then I was in the ditch and then a fucking sword went through my roof and then I fell out and then-"
"That is enough," the man went silent and the pressure of the blade disappeared. Still, the woman didn't attempt to move until told. Some psycho had jumped- no, no, no, scratch that; apparently multiple psychos (considering the term 'us) had jumped in front of her car and were stabbing shit with swords. She was not moving! What kind of a nut job ran around with a sword anyways?
"My lady, you may calm yourself. It was a misunderstanding that could have been avoided if my distracted companion had paid attention," a new voice stated from behind in a pleasant, soothing tone. Corrine frowned at his words and resisted the urge to smirk as she lowered her hands. 'My lady', great, some D&D freaks were running loose again. It was all fun as a game but some people take it too far.
"May I move without dying now?" she asked a bit dryly, recovering slowly from the car crash adrenaline. Another tense silence ensued before they responded.
"You may but I must request that you do not panic at our appearances. We are merely travelers," the second voice replied in a caution. Corrine rolled her eyes and turned to face the dumb, probably drugged kids who had wrecked her car. They were going to be sued to the point it was sad!
Standing only a few feet behind her were a trio of men, each unarmed now. Blinking twice, shaking her head then staring blatantly at them, Corrine had to really focus on reality to comprehend them.
The man in the center was a pale creature with dark eyes that glittered like black glass. From under frowning brows, they stared at her coldly as his lips pressed in annoyance. She stared his firm, defiant jaw with its dark, clean goatee and moustache, then his raven black hair tied back against the base of his skull. He looked like the very essence of the night itself with the sharp angles of his frowning brows and high cheekbones, hiding depthless, calculating black eyes.
To his left stood a much more dramatic person who was an eyesore even at night. Ebony skin like gleaming pitch contrasted sharply with the glowing red of his wickedly intelligent and appraising eyes, one covered by a ruby eye patch. To her shock, he wore a wide brimmed violet hat which barely concealed his pointed ears. A humorous, slightly sinful smile tweaked the end of his mouth as he considered her, one slender black hand fiddling with his belt of daggers.
The one to the right of the trio instantaneously sparked recognition in her mind like fire. Thick white hair fell messily about his shadowy face and on his forest cloak. The flare of his brilliant lavender eyes startled the woman as he blankly if not warily gauged her reaction to him. Balancing his wrists of the pommels of two precise scimitars at his hips, the man looked like he had leapt out of the book and into the road beside her. There was even a unicorn pendant about his slender, corded neck, for crying out loud!
"My lady, I did try to forewarn you about our appearances," the ridiculously garbed man sighed, apparently disappointed by her reaction. Snapping to focus and closing her gaping mouth, Corrine cleared her throat and gave them a critical look, one brow lifted.
"Let me guess: Artemis Entreri, Drizzt Do'Urden and Jaraxle Baenre, right?" she asked wryly. A complete look of surprise crossed the two drow and they shared a startled glance. Entreri merely narrowed his dark glare at her.
"Indeed, that is our names. How do you know us, stranger?" Drizzt returned curiously. Corrine wasn't paying attention however. Laughing with dry, frustrated humor, she closed her eyes and threw her hands up in resignation.
"Oh my god, I hit a bunch of wandering cos-players! Fuck, when does it end?"
"Cos-players? I believe you are confused," the assassin stated bluntly, apparently not enjoying her company. Corrine wagged a finger at him reprimanding, quickly growing more agitated by the moment.
"No, no, no. I think you are the one confused, Arty. Okay, listen up: those people aren't real! I don't know if you get your kicks this way but causing accidents then holding people at knife point is not funny. In fact, its illegal so-"
"You do not believe we are real? Why wouldn't we be?" Jaraxle interrupted, seeming more intrigued by the moment. She eyed them all and wondered why the hell she wasn't calling the cops already. Apparently, they were on drugs.
"Because those guys are fictional. They don't exist. Idiots just like to dress up like them and go run around a convention center. I don't care if you do it in Fernley, really. I don't care if you do it in Bumfuck, Egypt, just not in the ro-"
"She does not believe we are real!" Jaraxle stated incredulously, turning to Entreri in mild shock. Corrine stopped her tirade to watch as the assassin shrugged as if he truly didn't care. "According to the lady, we do not exist."
"It is not that amazing, Jaraxle. We are no longer on Faerun and I rather doubted that our reputations would spread to other planes of existence," Drizzt countered readily if not exasperatingly. He'd been through it all before, Corrine knew. Mentally, she slapped herself. Knock it off! They are just confused, drugged kids! Well, maybe not kids but at least drugged thirty or so year olds.
"Let us leave. We will not find any answers here."
"Hold on. Hold on," Corrine stopped them, putting up a hand and restraining a laugh. "Let's say you are who you say you are. Can you prove it?"
Jaraxle gave her yet another pleased, intrigued look and nodded. Corrine folded her arms over her chest and waited, giving the drow a challenging look. Watch; he'll pull out some joke shop wand and this bad joke would be over and the insurance policies would be exchanged.
Instead, she looked down at a burst of purple light to find her arm on fire. Wailing a startled cry, Corrine beat at in a panic. The flames neither diminished nor did they…hurt. They didn't hurt! Calming down enough to realize the fact, the woman held her hand before her eyes, watching the violet fires lick and fume about her fingers and arm like a pet. After a moment, they blinked to nonexistence.
With a gaping, stunned look, Corrine stared at the trio, eyes wide and mouth open yet again. Without much further ado, her gaze rolled to the darkness of her skull and she fainted, dropping to the ground hard.