"Hit me." It's the perfect line to start a story on. It says so much in such a small sentence. It came from the grace of tongue that belonged to Chandler, innkeeper of the Fool's Gold, a multi-level bar & grille with accommodations and a complimentary continental breakfast. It drew many wanderers to its seedy indoors, known for billiards, cards and bar fights in a fog of cigar smoke, beer, waitresses and dim-at-best candlelight. Many of the bar fights included a young rogue named Gaiden. Chandler was always willing to allow Gaiden's fights, as afterwards business boomed. The surrounding villages craved gossip, and Gaiden was always willing to oblige to pay for the damages. Now, Chandler and Gaiden were locked in a vicious battle of wits on a card table tucked into a dark corner up the steps, next to the bar, across from the kitchen door, furthest from the doors and the round tables of the Fool's Gold. The game? Blackjack.
"Chandler, you can't hit on a twenty," Gaiden told him, taking a large swig of beer from his mug. As he swallowed, he palmed the top card of the deck. Gaiden replaced his cigarette, pulling one out of his pack of smokes with his lips as he set down his mug. His emerald eyes shone behind the strands of brown hair.
Gaiden was a well-built guy, like he worked hard and often. There was nothing truly spectacular about his physiology beyond that (his lungs and liver were already pretty much shot, as far as anyone could tell), but there was one very strange element: a three-foot monkey tail sticking out of his ass. He wore a tight navy blue tunic with gold trim and white padded patches at the armpits over black underalls. His hands were wrapped in a silvery white gauze as a wristband. His belt was really more like a heavy leather brown piece buckled closely over his hips (extending down to his knees) with cargo pockets and sheathes. He closely resembled a soldier. His broadsword was in the same style sheath, resting next to the stairway up to the Fool's Gold rooms. His partner was taking a nap there himself, so Gaiden decided to gamble their latest pay.
"Hit me," the innkeeper said in a dangerous voice as smoke blew out onto the table, shading the pot from the chandelier swinging from the rafters above. He was clad in a very dirty white business shirt, suspenders, brown-tanned skin pants and a green bandana. He hid a great double-barrel shotgun under the table and a tiny knife in a sheath near his cuffs.
Gaiden shrugged, took the cig out of his mouth and dealt the innkeeper a card. Chandler took the card, turned up a corner, swore worse than you or I ever have, and threw the cards on the table. He pushed his bets out towards Gaiden, who didn't seem at all concerned with the winnings. He was standing tall and leaning up over the table to look at Chandler's cards.
"Hmmm... let's see... well, I'm no calculator, but it looks like you've got twenty-two," Gaiden said, straining over the table as he swept all his coin earnings over to his bank at the edge of the round table. He shrugged, and opened up his large backpack to sweep the earnings in. There was a sudden rush to snuff cigars and to order drinks. Several of the patrons of the Fool's Gold card tables looked close to tears. Gaiden had cleaned them all out, and done a damn good job of it. One particularly old, retired patron was consoling Chandler.
"Here, Chandler, lemme buy ya a drink...." The patron looked sore and concerned, having taken heavy hits himself, but suddenly found himself wearing a mask of rage, self-disgust and loathing. "Gaiden! You cocky punk, you ripped me off!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Gaiden said, looking innocent and confused as he closed up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Bloody hell, you senile geezer-" Gaiden was interrupted as he raised his hand in innocence, and a long string of playing cards suddenly flew out of his wrist. Gaiden didn't pause to look stunned; he took up his dagger and lanced towards the accuser's large, ancient magnum at his shoulder. The patron was old, yes, but not quite senile just yet. He whipped his magnum out of its holster before Gaiden's thieves' dagger simply ripped the holster apart, and made to fire through Gaiden's armpit. Gaiden punched forward with his free hand, catching the patron in the jaw and slashing down towards the magnum. He cleaved it in half, and the patron fell cold on the wood floor.
"You'll pay for that, you dirty Familiar!" Seconds later, Gaiden fell next to him. Another player, one who was closest to tears (Kudgle), had taken up Chandler's shotgun before the innkeeper could and had slammed the butt down on the back of Gaiden's neck. Gaiden fell to the floor, and rolled out of the way before a shell filled the hardwood under him with holes like Swiss cheese.
Familiar... they use it like a curse word, Gaiden was driving himself to madness, rolling onto his feet and taking the leg of a chair with his prehensile tail, he switched it into his left hand with his tail and brought vengeance swiftly down on Kudgle. The chair shattered in Gaiden's hands, and Kudgle fell unconscious on top of the elderly nobleman.
"Your cudgel form needs work, Kudgle," Gaiden said with the cold, cynical tone of arrogance that he reserved specifically for his many victims, at the moment speaking to his latest: Kudgle, the one playing with things that don't belong to him and trying to crack roguish skull with them. There was but one more, a man who was simply trying to stop the violence, and whom Gaiden would later come to praise. The sideline bet he had made on his odds with the bartender was just that, a sideline bet, and one that Gaiden didn't know about. Gaiden took up his longsword in his tail, swinging it into his right hand, letting the scabbard simply fly off and smash into the offender's face, knocking him back against the wall. Gaiden moved to strike with all the skill and dexterity he had, solely geared towards personal wealth and personal safety.
Gaiden had a murderous glint in his eye, driven now by his own passion. There was a crashing sound, but it made no difference. Gaiden was a predator, his prey an older male, maybe forty, and preparing to fight to the death with his bare hands. The prey was a fairly experienced fighter and rogue itself, and Gaiden suddenly realized that he knew it well: it was Chandler. Gaiden faltered at the realization that was about to execute one of the few he called friends. Just long enough for his rage to subside, and for vandal that had shattered the window to come swooping down. With the war-cry of a falcon, the fastest thing on earth (and Gaiden's closest compadré) scraped its talons across Gaiden's forearm through gauze and flesh. Gaiden dropped his sword, and collapsed onto a wall with it, sweating from the exhaustion of his extremes.
"Chandler... I'm so sorry...."
"I know, boy. Come on, come back to the kitchens, you don't want to stay out here...."
"Haha, Skye, you're a guardian angel," Chandler said, laughing as his waitresses continually poured hot water and bubble bath into the bathtub that Gaiden occupied in the rear of the kitchens. Gaiden would be much safer than in their room, when he was back near Chandler's room, with dishwashers and bakers to keep an eye on him all night. He hadn't exactly made friends back there in the Fool's Gold, specifically those that bet against him in the bar fight (the two he had fought were still out cold).
"Yes, Gaiden oversteps his limits often, but he has luck and skill on his side," Skye said, a talking bird that interrupts more than he helps and accompanies Gaiden on his journeys.
"Is he still out cold?" Chandler asked.
"Yes. He won't remember what happened when he wakes up." Skye said in his bold English accent, preening his feathers in the conversation. He preferred to be well-groomed.
"Will he wake up in time to get out of the bathtub?"
"I'd say not. He has no shame, and no regrets."
"Hey, you think we should fill him in on what happened when he wakes up?"
"No, he will most likely guess at his own shortcomings."
"Well, I'm going to bed then. His clothes'll be done by tomorrow. G'night Skye."
"Sleep well, Chandler. I'll have a midnight snack. You know, for an inn with so many fine waitresses, you have quite a few rodents."
"...Shaddup."
Gaiden stirred in his sleep. He was having a nightmare, stuck in the cold bathtub with backpack hanging above the surface of the water by the useless faucet that Skye was perched on. He slept with his head under one wing, which was reminiscent of Gaiden, who used his arms as a pillow and covers. He was shaking and trying as hard as he could to wake up, but that wasn't part of the dream. It always played out like this.
Gaiden was dreaming of blazing golden fire and eternal jet shadow, of a force of nature that came down upon him, moving through the air like Death itself. It took the form of a great and terrible swordsman, untouched by even a single drop of rain, the way he moved was simply poetry in motion, flawless in every aspect and so fast Gaiden could not follow it. Gaiden was splattered with mud and soaked in freezing rain as thunder rang out above, the blade master casting out flames upon his victims from his sword, stealing their souls to his own purposes. Gaiden had but a shattered longblade as his defense against the onslaught, fighting valiantly but vainly, feeling his soul purged from his body in a blast of shadowed gold.
No... Gaiden could hear his own thoughts, watching the images painted on his memory. No... Meadow.... His tone suddenly changed to the deepest passion of his spirit, from grief to unending fury. Solanthanor....
"HOW COULD YOU...!" Gaiden stirred in his sleep. Skye suddenly awoke.
The crow of a Cucco suddenly rang out across the roads leading to the Fool's Gold, and far to close to the morning wake-up call was Oliver. He was close enough to watch Gaiden nearly wake from He covered his ears, and looked over to the side. Another, Caesar Tantalus, was making a few last-minute adjustments to the chains that were latched to the hull of the Shadow Fox and fed through an open window into the kitchen of the Fool's Gold. Caesar Tantalus gave a wave of the hand, and Olly pushed forward on the throttle.
All at once they went to a cruising speed of about 300 km/h at forty feet in the air, incredibly low-flying for an airship of its size. Gaiden awoke to the sound of the legs of his bathtub scraping across the tile floor, and screaming in surprise as he was quickly dragged straight through a wall. Skye awoke in shock, flapping madly to get off the bathtub as they were in air, cruising along away from the Fool's Gold.
Gaiden began laughing hysterically as he looked up, saw that he was suspended by a dramatic and overly complicated network of chains attached to an airship. He was shivering in a flying bathtub, covering his nekkedness and framing his mouth to shout up at Olly. He looked down to see Chandler trying his hardest to keep up, dodging giant splashes of water like rain during a hurricane and yelling up about the missing side of his inn.
Gaiden could only laugh himself unconscious, reaching inside the soaked backpack still on the faucet and taking out a large sack of coins and jewels, looking inside and tossing it down to Chandler, then repeating the process. He said his good-byes to Chandler, who looked royally pissed. The innkeeper bent down to take his payment, getting hit in his robe by the remainder of Gaiden's bath-water. All he could think of was the full-house he'd have for months afterwards. He said his good-byes back as Gaiden was reeled up, the catch of the day.