Summary: Merofled Deadeye just wanted to know what was up with this new continent that has people talking so much. She didn't ask to be involved in so much; be it fights, flights, screams, schemes, laughs, loves, and worst of it all: working. Just the thought of all that effort makes her grimace. She could just quit, but nooo, she had to follow around the (admittedly hilarious) group and become one of them. It's not too bad, though; she found someone who was in dire need of the experience of theater, and she'd never say no to acting.
Also, it's terribly fun to poke fun at his lack of patience, pants, and his plentiful persistence.
Tl;dr:A fanfic about a strange, lazy halfling that should be a bit more worried about what's happened to her, and is currently happening, and what is going to happen, but she can't seem to bring herself to care. Good thing she's proficient in chanclas.
Disclaimer: I'll do this once, and I hope that I don't have to repeat myself: I do not own Dungeons and Dragons; the peeps over at Wizards of the Coast own it. I am also not affiliated with The Unexpectables; the great mind of Monty Glu and her players Taka, Chris, Conner, and Gaijin (and their many guest stars) are the real stars. I'm just adding some lazy OC for maximum sudden nostril exhalation. Please support the official show, it's worth it.
Song used in this chapter: A Place I Don't Know by Daniel Olsen
This is the fifth time.
The. Fifth. Time. It has happened. And we've only just left.
When it first happened, I thought I got the small cabin to myself. It wasn't small for the sake of privacy, but more the side-effect of having such a small room to begin with. Something tells me that it was supposed to be for two certain crew members, seeing a fairly large bed that was poorly made, and a hammock on the opposite side, sized for smallfolk, probably, and less-probably for stowaway kids.
An image of a halfling kid, brandishing a curved stick like a scimitar and with an eyepatch, flashes in my mind, almost bringing me a smile.
Seeing how I filled my quota for actually doing stuff, I headed straight for the hammock, almost jumped straight into it, and sleep away this month long journey.
Almost, because it turns out that the reason the bed was terribly made was that someone was occupying it. From the general shape of the covers, well, covering them, it was another short individual. Laying next to the bed was a very, very impractically practical spear, blade looking all clean and sharp, but whoever made the shaft must've been drunk, seeing how it's bent.
Also, there's a piece of string trailing off of the bottom, but I can't tell what for.
But really, if I'm honest with myself, it was the moans and the sounds of an upset stomach that tipped me off that someone was there. I shut the door, and the form under the bed covers seems to become even more disturbed, before trying to take off said covers and look over to me-
But I've already shifted my attention to the hammock, continuing on towards my original destination. I drop my pack to the floor, drop my sword belt, and take a leap up to the hammock. Curling up in it, I close my eyes, and let out a long sigh that I've been holding in for the morning and a bit of the afternoon.
There may or may not have been an apple taken out of my pocket to lazily bite into. A mystery to us all.
It was quiet for a solid minute.
…
"Who are you?"
Three very simple words, asking a question that could have many, many differing benefits and consequences depending on who you use said question on. It could be a command said towards a shifty individual, or perhaps a frightened whisper said to a possibly dangerous (or very much dangerous) unknown. It could be the words to start a bar fight, or the first words of a loving relationship yet to start. It could-
-be completely ignored.
I chose the last option, having never failed me.
(Okay, it failed me a few times, but at least I'm consistent.)
Not that much longer passed, but I hear the voice (which sounded scraggly, but with an unhealthy amount of seriousness injected into it) speak up again. "You know I asked you aaauhhhg..."
...which then trailed from a grunt of pain to rustled sheets and the sound of the person running out the door, probably holding a hand to his mouth.
It was enough to make smile for a second.
Then they returned a bit later, probably sounding a bit better. What was a lot better was that he seemed to forget to ask who I was. I settled in a bit more, possibly taking a bite of an apple that may or may not exist.
Then it happened again. I almost smiled again; this guy must really not like ships.
And again. I just ignored him.
Again. I felt my lips twitch downward.
And... again- Seriously, what was up with this guy? Which god did he anger to make him throw up so much? Did he get poisoned, or did I get roomed with the one diseased guy of the boat.
You know, it probably explains the relatively cheap price of getting this room.
...damn. Swindled again, Mero.
I shake my head and, ignoring my own protests of surpassing my personal quota, jump down from the hammock. I sift through my pack, remembering someone tossing a farewell gift in here...
Somewhere. With everything else. Or did I even see the right thing get thrown in here? For all I know, it could just be another prank of some kind.
...nah, people aren't huge fans of pranking me; says it's not worth the reaction they get.
On the flipside, somewhere behind me the door opens back up, and the dragging of feet commences as the guy lumbers his way back inside. He manages to go as far as closing the door and making it halfway across the room before I hear him stop somewhere behind me.
I pull out a wrapped item, unwrap it to find a carrot, then toss it back inside.
I hear a sigh of frustration from behind me, as he speaks up, "What are you doing now, halfling?"
…
No, that's not it either...
…
"So, are you not going to talk? Of fucking course..." He let out another sound that sounds almost constipated, and then the sounds of rustling sheets yet again, then quiet on his part.
…
Yeesh, if I put this stuff in better the first time, I might find it easier.
...Nah, it's a fruitless endeavor; what's the point of packing something up neatly if it's just going to be dumped out at some point, anyhow-
Ah. So that's where the set went off to. I grab the small pot out and, remembering the waterskin on my side, set the pot down and pour out the last of it inside. Snapping my fingers together a few times to get some friction, I drag my hands up with a bit of force and a small, very dark orange trail from the snapped fingers drift off. Bringing my hands back down, I press the trail into the pot, and upon lifting my hands, there's steam lifting off of it.
Not how I planned to do it, but it's there, so... back to searching.
I put my hands back in, and my thoughts drift as I sift through the bag.
Alivast. A place where its major export is magical items, and where (from what that one sailor said to that other guy and one of the performers overheard in a bar) all the craziest shit happens, and if it wasn't for the (quite frankly) high pay they'd do anything else.
Seems interesting, if it's worth a boat ride over in the first place. And the boat ride back, now that I think about it. Remembering the lack of coin that I have, I hope that it'll be worth an extended visit. Might find a few good muses for a few characters, and if I'm lucky an entire play.
City full of crazies could mean anything, after all.
And... there we go, inner monologue complete, and the two main characters have been found. Pulling out a stick of one, a lump of the other, and a dagger from the sword belt, I set myself to shaving off a few slices of the lump and tossing them into the water, along with the stick.
Checking behind me, the guy's still under the covers. Guess he's giving the same treatment to me, or something.
The feeling of traveling to a new land, with a guy that seems to be allergic to boats, and the fact that I'm actually doing something that isn't acting...
-all this for someone you haven't even seen? But, everything feels nostalgic, as if you've done this before when all you've wanted was a change-
Taking in a deep breath, I softly sing out while weaving light notes of a string with my hands.
"What's the word, does this thing have a name?
When familiar surroundings just don't look the same?
Do you think that it's strange?
In a small way, I suppose
I'm just longing for a place I don't know..."
Twisting out of my cross-legged sit, I pluck an instrument off of the side of my pack; a instrument that others call an odd lute, but what I never had the honor of naming. Something from a place...
"I was used to my safety and peace
I mistook all this tedium with being at ease
But then you came around
Said, "It's time to let go"
and you took me to a place I don't know,"
I hum and close my eyes, as the smell of the ingredients simmering in the pot wafts through the air. My feet have a mind of their own, as they move gently from one part of this tiny cabin to another, carefully stepping over the contents on the floor. As I finish off my humming, I let out the last of this feeling.
"Come on,
Take me to a place,
I don't know..."
As the last drop leaves me through the chord, I notice how much more quiet it has gotten in the room.
...Did he just leave in the middle of all that? When the hell did he leave, I never even noticed. I open my eyes to look over to the door-
Straight into inhumanoid eyes.
I blink.
The slitted yellow eyes (and surrounded by green where white should be) blinked back.
I can't help but feel like I've seen them before.
…
…
…
"Cool, you didn't leave." I turn around, plopping back down to the floor and fishing out a small sieve from one of the side pockets of my pack.
Taking out two small tankards (by smallfolk standards, it's very much normal) I place them on the floor, then sieve the concoction into both containers. Without turning around, I slide one of the drinks next to me, patting the ground next to it. "There."
I sit down, pick up my tankard, and take a long drink.
…
He still hasn't sat down next to me.
…
...hm, maybe I shouldn't have spooked him with the singing. People say that it's weird.
…
Well, if he isn't going to come down here, then I'm going to finish off his portion. See how he likes-
A flash of dark red next to me, and that thought gets shot down. I look down at the floor next to me.
He still hasn't taken up the tea. Hm.
I have an idea...
-suave, air of mystery, aura of "I know something you don't"-
-and a smirk to top it off, both relaxing and yet sharpening my posture. Setting down my tankard as daintily as a glass of the finest wine, I fold my hands over my lap as I look outwards. I picture a sunset beyond the walls of the cabin, which would've been true about an hour ago (and if there wasn't a wall in the way.)
"Are you allergic, Red?"
I see 'Red' shift next to me, and his voice says that he looked right at me, saying, "What."
Ha, not even a question. Likes getting to the point, if the first few questions mean anything.
"Allergic, love. You know," I wave my hand in the air in front of my face. "Having a violent reaction to eating something. Or drinking, in this case." I let out a sigh so faint, that it makes me feel like I'm made of glass. "It would be a shame to go through all that trouble for you to be allergic."
"What?"
...I mean, at least it sounds like a question this time around.
I let out another sigh, tinting the glass this character is made of with an orange stain. "Is the only thing you're capable of is asking questions? Besides, keeping it so short can only hinder me in answering it, love."
"Are you possessed, or something?"
I tear off the character from myself, slouching over to grab my tea. "Nope," I say, popping the 'p'. "But I am acting."
It's quiet for a minute...
…
I see 'Red' pick up his tea from my peripheral. Good, I'd rather not concentrate on the warmth for too long-
"Acting like what?"
I blink. What an odd question.
I shrug. "Just acting."
"That doesn't answer my question." Whoa, something that isn't a question.
Then what he said catches up to me. "What do you mean it doesn't? I'm just acting, that's it."
I take a long sip, savoring the spice mixed with the light pungent tones. Some of the spiced parts drift in, and I go for a longer sip to catch the flavor-
"I don't follow."
WAIT WHAT-
"Wh-" Is all I get out before tea goes down the wrong pipe, forcing me to cough it all up and- ow, is that freaking cinnamon up my nose what the actual-
A hand sort of awkwardly pats my back, as if the motion itself would help. If any force was put behind it, it might've, but lo and behold it does nothing.
"Are you alright, civ'?" 'Red's voice says from beside me, and I can help but note the weird acknowledgment. "Civ'", is that short for something? What the- ow...
I sputter out one last hacking cough, rubbing my mouth with my sleeve, before turning about on my knees to point a hand at 'Red'. "What do you mean?" I wheeze out the last word. "Have you never heard of a circus... or... something..."
…
"What?"
'What', indeed. Suddenly, the fact that the eyes were so weird made so much sense, because 'Red' is very much weird himself. What I thought was another halfling, or perhaps a gnome, with a love for red clothing, isn't even close to what I thought he was.
He's a kobold. With red scales.
...red scales...
Said red kobold now looks at me with a slowly narrowing eyes.
-searing hums, splitting light, shattering smoke and shifting glass-
Nah. How about... I look down.
I slowly look back up.
"You could've warned me that you slept nude, buddy."
He looks down at himself.
Then he gives me a deadpan look.
"...I'm normally like this."
… Well, I'm certainly interested where this is going.
"Well you might want to fix that, if we're going to be sharing the same room for the next... month, tops?" I make a show of thinking for a second, then shrugging. "Or don't, but know that I might stare in suspicious places."
The look on his face is just precious.
I bet it gets even better when I turn away from him right when he's about to say something. I go around my stuff, flicking my hand to get rid of any stains on the utensils. Picking them up, I haphazardly throw them into my pack, then go up to our drinks and thrust them into his hands.
"Drink. Ginger helps with stomach aches, and the cinnamon is for flavor." Not bothering to take note if he agreed or not, I go off, doing a lazy crawl into the sheets of the bed, and stop when I'm just under the covers.
…
"Why," I hear him practically growl beside me. "Are you IN MY BED!" He ends with a shout.
...okay, rude to yell at someone trying to sleep...
I let out slowing breaths, progressively moving towards...
A light snore.
A literal explosive sigh sets off next to me, and I hear him stomp around the room for a few minutes. Claws clacking on the floorboards. A huff every now and then.
Then some more shuffling for another minute, and I fall asleep between one footstep and another.
...
The next morning, I found myself alone.
After spending the next few weeks wandering around, I found that he made a deal with some members of the crew and was allowed to sleep elsewhere. He did his best to avoid me, and I couldn't find it in me to approach.
But on that one morning after, I found two empty mugs sitting beside my pack, wiped clean.
I felt my mouth twitch upwards for a second, without me trying for it.
A/N: And so begins a beautiful chaos by that name of Merofled, who will go down in history despite her best efforts.
Some small tidbits; Merofled is a level one... something. She has the Actor feat, however, so that might hint at what she does. Feat comes from a house rule that I'm used to, where 'erebody gets a feat to start off with. And while I'm not certain, I think The Unexpectables has something similar, seeing how Task had a modified version of Sharpshooter (now regular Sharpshooter), Borky has Tavern Brawler, and Panic has his spikes. Don't know what Greckles has, but three out of four is good enough for me to go along with it.