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~o0o~ Chapter ~o0o~
"What if Ooloff is right?" Quaraun said to no one in particular.
"About what?" Unicorn responded.
"Me. Ghosts. Zombies."
"Does ya believe in Zombies?"
"Well, then, dair's ya answer."
"I don't believes Liches either, but here you are."
"Here I is."
"How are you here?"
"I start Lich making spell. Kill meself before it done. Un ya goes ahead un finishes it. Yis very good at de Necromancy, for someone who does no believe in dead t'ings."
"Do you see BeaLuna and Bullgaar?"
"Not right now."
"I know they're not here right now. I meant d you ever see them?"
"I soul bound to ya, Quaraun."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"I sees whatever ya wants me to sees, Quaraun."
"You know, that kind of an answer, doesn't help me to believe you are real either."
"Maybe I is not real."
"Can ya prove I is real?"
"Well then, how ya know I is?"
"Here. Drink. Clear ya head."
"CLEAR my head? With Faerie Wine?"
"Fog ya head then. Whatever. Do somet'ing."
Quaraun took the glass of smoldering green liquid from the Faerie and drank it. Unicorn poored Quaraun another glass and the Elf quickly drank that as well.
"Boy, ya must be quite de heavy drinker."
"What makes you say that?"
"Two glasses of Faerie Wine. Ya just guzzled dem down like dey was water."
On the other side of the tavern, drunk little Halfling, jumped on on a table and began singing a poem about the Shire.
"What is that god forsaken noise," Quaraun moaned.
The Elf was slumped face down over the table. Unicorn wasn't sure if Quaraun was drunk, tired, sick, or all of the above.
"It a wee lil Halfling," Unicorn answered. "Him signing himself up a storm."
"Make him shut up."
Unicorn slid out of his seat and went to the Halfling's table. The tiny little humanoid was dancing gleefully, in between singing and reciting poetry.
"Me Elf be wanting ya to shut ya wee lil trap," the old undead Phooka said to the Halfling.
A few moments later, Unicorn returned to Quaraun's table and once again sat down beside the Elf. Quaraun was still slumped over the table and had not yet looked up.
"I can still hear him," Quaraun muttered through his hair.
"Aye. Him say ya was nothing but a no good son of bitch arrogant High Elf. Him told me to tell ya to fuck yaself."
"I won't have to, I'm sure you'll do that later."
"Of course I will."
"I have a headache."
"Dat mean I can no fuck ya?"
"It means I want that fucking piece of shit to shut up. I didn't come here to listen to poetry. If had wanted to hear poetry recited I would have come to a theatre. I'm trying to rest."
"On de table?"
"Leave me alone. I'm tired."
"We could rent a room."
"I don't want to rent a room. I'm fine, right here."
"I could fuck ya better in a room. More privacy."
"I don't need a room. I need a nap."
"I could fuck ya here at de table."
"You do and I'll ram my wand up your ass."
"Yeah. I know dat suppose to be threat, but I probably would like dat. So dat not incentive for me to no fuck ya on table."
"I just want that singing wretch to shut his fucking mouth."
"Dat be a long poem him singing. Will take him an hour to get t'rough it."
"Make him shut up."
"How ya propose I do dat?"
"I don't know. Think of something. You're a Trickster Faerie. You always think of something. You pride yourself on being the most annoying damned Fae on the planet. Do one of those things that you do. Just make him stop singing."
Unicorn got up and once again returned to the Halfling's table. This time he stood and silently watched the tiny creature as it merrily skipped and danced on the table, in the beat to it's sing-song poetry recital. Unicorn walked slowly around the table watching the little creature's every move, listening to the song, picking up on the cues of his movements.
After a minute or so, Unicorn stopped moving and stood, silently, watching and waiting for just the right moment, and when that moment came, he swiftly pulled his machete from his hakama and lopped off the Halfling's head. There was a brief shrill gurgle shriek as the last stanza of the poem was cut to an abrupt hault.
At the sound of the Halfling's dying breath, Quaraun looked up for the first time. He sat staring and blinking, uncertain if Unicorn had actually just done, what he thought Unicorn had just did.
Unicorn pranced back to Quaraun's table and plopped the Halfling's severed head in the middle of Quaraun's plate.
"Dair. Him no more sing," Unicorn said cheerfully, proudly beaming over his work.
"That's not what I asked you to do."
"Ya tolds me to make him shut up un I did."
"You cut off his frigging head!"
"Aye. Un now ya can add it to ya head collection."
"I don't have a... oh." Quaraun reached into his bag and pulled out Gibedon's head. "I forgot about that. Why does everybody keep losing their head around me?"
BeLuna entered the tavern just then, back from her errands and was about to start one of her usual conversations with Quaraun when she saw the Halfling's head.
"Quaraun, why do you have a head in your plate?"
"Why do you say that so calmly, like this is normal every day thing to happen to me?"
"Well, uhm... you know... it kind of is."
Before Quaraun had a chance to answer, Bullgar joined the trio.
"Quaraun!" The giant Dwarf boomed. "There's a head in your plate!"
"I hate my life."
"Who killed him?" BeaLuna asked. "You or the Phooka?"
"Him tolds me to," Unicorn answered.
"I did not! I told you to make him shut up. I most certainly did not tell you to cut his head off."
"What else ya expect me to do?"
"I don't know, but I certainly wasn't expecting you to cut his head off."
"Well ya is Necromancer, ya put it back on."
"Necromancy doesn't work that way."
"Well, how ya explai me un her un him."
Unicorn pointed to BeaLuna and Bullgaar.
"I'm drunk and none of this is happening," Quaraun said as he poured himself another glass of Faerie Wine and drink it as quickly as he did the others.
"Are you drunk, Quaraun?" BeaLuna asked.
"Getting there, as quickly as possible," Quaraun answered while pouring a 4th glass.
"You didn't use to drink."
"I do now."
Quaraun held the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, then tossed the glass asie and started drinking from the bottle.
"When did you start drinking?"
"When did BoomFuzzy die?"
Quaraun grabbed a wait servant by the arm.
"Bring me more Faerie Wine. I seem to have run out, and do something with that... that... there's a head in my soup. Kindly remove it and bring me more soup. No. Forget the soup. Bring me three more bottles of Faerie Wine. And get that thing off my table. Thank you."
"Quaraun," BeaLuna asked. "You're not doing so good are you?"
"Oh, I don't know. Let me think. I'm wanted for murder. I'm on the run from the law. My lover is dead. My wife is dead. My children are dead. My people are dead. There's a head in my pocket, another head on my table, there's a dead purple Unicorn Lich sitting beside me grinning like a madman, a pink haired, green skinned Gnomish Ghost yip-yapping at me, and a brainless Zombie Mountain Dwarf staring at me. I'd say I'm doing just peachy."
"I think you're having a nervous breakdown, Quaraun."
"Ya think? Oh gee! I wonder what could have possibly tipped you off!"
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