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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/867887
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by Rhyssa Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Book · Activity · #2050433
pieces created in response to prompts
#867887 added December 5, 2015 at 1:36am
Restrictions: None
a conversation between NPCs
Chiara leaned over the fence looking at the group of adventurers climbing the path to the Eld Tree Inn where she worked. “They’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

Tarin just rolled his eyes and threw his head back to catch the light. “Yes, but have you ever talked with them? Seriously, it’s the same conversation over and over. They all want to know about the town and the latest quest and they seem to forget who’ve they’ve talked to between one conversation and the next. I swear, if I have to tell someone one more time that they should talk to Belor, I’m going to throw the biggest fit.”

Little Anwyn piped up from her seat next to her wolf friend, “Have you ever noticed that you’ve lost something just after they’ve talked to you? I’ve lost more health potions to sticky fingers.”

Anna, the barmaid, and the only human among the group of friends put her finger to her lips. “We shouldn’t talk about them. It’s bad for business, and you know how Belor gets about that—the only thing adventurers are good for is replenishing our stores. You know our town relies on them for coin.”

“And wandering around town breaking things,” Chiara added. “I know, they’re a necessary evil. But still. They’re so pretty in the light. It makes me want to,” she raised her hand as though she were going to snap her fingers, but Tarin caught her hand.

“No. You have enough dolls already.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust and settled into the fence just as the group arrived. The leader walked up to Tarin with his comrades flanking him, like geese in formation.

“Good sir, we seek information. What is happening in town?”

Tarin sighed. “I’ve heard that Balor has some work that might need doing.”

The roguish adventurer near the back sidled up and clumsily picked everyone’s pocket before the group headed into the Inn.

Chiara reached up and pulled Tarin’s hair. “Are you sure I can’t turn them into dolls? I’m not sure they’d be missed.”

He rolled his eyes again and settled into the fence.

Prompt 18
the week of November 29

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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/867887