The outlines of two figures filled the entrance to Rizzik’s shop, then stepped into the candlelight concentrated at the center of the room as the door closed behind them. Most anyone who hadn’t seen them before would have agreed they made the most peculiar pair, for they seemed nearly the opposite of each other in every way.
Though she was by far the shortest of the two at just over 3 feet tall, Maribel Flindlemar easily stood out the most. With large green eyes, scattered freckles, and sky blue hair tied up in twin buns straddling the top of her head, she was a veritable ball of energy. Many folk who were uneducated in the existence and prevalence of halflings would have mistaken the young woman for an 6-year-old girl. While this famously would have offended many of her kind, Maribel was not bothered by it; in fact, she didn’t seem to be bothered by anything. Everywhere she went, she radiated her sunny, spunky disposition to the delight—and occasionally the annoyance—of those around her. Those who thought her as weak as a child were soon shown their misconception, however. With a custom-made crossbow, a quiver full of bolts, and a sure aim, she held her own among adventurers, to the surprise of many of her contemporaries.
In the starkest of contrasts, to her side sulked the orc Gresha, of clan Volmogh. Standing at 6’8” with a solid, slightly stocky build, forest-green skin, and jet-black hair pulled into a high-hanging ponytail, she cancelled out any natural magnetism Maribel carried, especially with her eyes sunken into an almost-perpetual glare and accentuated by her snout-like nose and jutting mandibles. Though she had a look and countenance common to most orcs, her proximity to and tolerance of her counterpart made it stand out all the more. A quick temper and a sharp battleaxe rounded out her fearsome aura, one that few desired to question or challenge.
Maribel’s eyes twinkled as they darted back and forth between the stocked shelves on each side of the room. “Ooo, what do ya think of this place, Greshie?” she asked in a sweet, singsong tone. “We should be able to get plenty here!”
Gresha merely crossed her arms and grunted in response, perusing the shelves herself but looking much more bored in doing so.
“Wonder where the shopkeep is?” The halfing peered over the top of the front counter. Using her tiny knuckles she rapped lightly on its surface. “Helloooo...anyone here? Could we get some service, pretty please?”
After a few silent seconds, a large green fist slammed onto the counter next to her, causing all the vials on the shelves to shudder in place. “SERVICE!!” Gresha roared, as Maribel stifled a giggle.
Upstairs, the sound caused Rizzik to violently flinch in his chair and nearly spill the inkpot sitting on his desk. Gathering himself, he sighed in annoyance at the interruption. “A brutish voice like that obviously didn’t come from the Lady Ravenwind. Must be some other customer.” Turning to the side of the desk, he grasped a long metal tube feeding into the floor. “Zevine,” he spoke into the end, “could you handle the customer at the front?”
The other end of the tube was in the cellar where a peasant girl sat at a small desk, reading a large alchemy tone. Looking up, she marked her spot in the book and closed it, standing and leaning toward the source of the voice. “Right away, sir,” she replied.
The 18-year-old Zevine, Rizzik’s assistant he had hired a few years back, was plain and unassuming, yet endlessly curious, which drew her strongly to the study of alchemy. Within a few months, she had gained enough knowledge to run the shop while Rizzik was off restocking his ingredients, though would often wished she could join him, or help him mix one of his special orders. Climbing the flight of stairs, she opened the door and stepped behind the counter, greeting both patrons with a ready smile. “Good morning! What can I get you?”
Maribel grinned excitedly. “I wanna tryyy...two of those, one of those, maybe that thin purple one, and—”
“Healing potions,” Gresha interjected flatly.
“Awww,” Maribel pouted, “but I thought we could—”
“Healing potions.”
The halfling fluttered her lips with a puff of air in exasperation and threw up her hands. “Fine. We’ll just get five healing potions, the ten-gerling ones. Grumpy Greshie ruins the fun again,” she muttered under her breath. Gresha gave no reply, but the slightest hint of a smile briefly passed over her mouth.
“Of course,” Zevine nodded courteously as she bent down to retrieve the vials from a nearby shelf. To reach them in the back, she had to set aside a few other vials on the adjacent workbench, leading her to absently move the vial already sitting there closer to the edge to make room. This brought it within Maribel’s field of vision for the first time since she had entered and it immediately caught her eye.
“So shiny!” She marveled, pointing up to it. “Hey lady, can one of our healing potions be that one?”
Zevine straightened back up to look where she was pointing, regarding the potion for the first time. “Oh I don’t know if that’s...” she began, before staring closer at the liquid in increasing puzzlement. Turning back and picking up one of the healing potions, she set them on the bench side by side. They looked very similar, yet one seemed to glow with a slightly brighter sheen. From her reading, Zevine knew the reddish pink hue of healing potions were very unique among alchemical formulae, and knowing Rizzik, he probably forgot to return it to the shelf with the others. “Very well,” she finally answered, grouping the vial with four others and sliding them across the bench. “There you are! That’ll be fifty gerlings.”
Gresha fished the currency out of her pack and set it on the table, gathering and stowing the potions in return. Exchanging brief pleasantries with Zevine, she exited the shop and started down the road, with Maribel skipping along behind her.
“So...” the shorter woman leaned over to her companion, looking up at her in anticipation. Where to next?”
Gresha continued to stare straight ahead as they reached the edge of town and faced the cobblestone path meandering toward the horizon. Finally, she glanced down at Maribel and shrugged. “Out.”
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