The Rum Imp

This includes three skitts of the Rum Imp, a charactor of my novel series. The first two are rather rough- and old (I've improved from these, I hope!) and the last I quickly typed up a few minutes ago. Enjoy! These are unedited- but I'll take any critique.

Characters
Marick The main character- an ex-hermit, also known as Aaron
Naemlize the Rum Imp
Freyah the sprite
Gaelswerth the moreh satyr- a skinny fellow with little goat horns and a lizard man’s tail(in my series lizard folk are called moreh- or...morons if you prefer) .
Winnefern (A close friend of Gaelswerth)


The Rum Imp December 2, 2006

They'd come along to the edge of the hill, down to where the horizon glistened clearly from the length of the Stalfot Plain. With regards to the green abyss, Marick realized the imp, Naemlize, did indeed live in the stone tower he furrowed his brow in consideration of.
But of course, they only had so much time before they were to be attacked by the victims of good impish treachery and befuddlement. And what more to suggest, for Naemlize tittered and grabbed tight around Marick's wrist and jolted him forward, causing the youth to utter a very random, individual hiccough:
The imp hummed nervously,"Ha-Ha-ha-ha-heee-" grinding his teeth, rushing along the grass, further...faster...tiredly....
Marick thought he'd almost gone a snub mental, the way the poor fellow began to tremble and widen his eyes, which had gone from light grey to dark blue. His long, blonde hair lolled over his face awkwardly, however, and it was hard to consider his large, gaping buggy eyes.
"Particular! Hark! Aaron is a particular friend! I shal'sh give him swigs of every ale-" Naemlize broke out into a whimpering sort of song of an anxious approval. It was all in his relief that Marick had come so long a way in a run with him- and his plan was going quite well, despite his deserved pursuers.
"I-I don't drink, Naemlize. Water will do me until I leave," Marick stammered softly, tripping slightly along side the pygmy. "Y-You do drink...water, don't you?"
"Water-ish so...so brown..."
"Only if you don't take the dirt and filth out of it-"
"An' I'sh a fellow of disguise!" Naemlize said, growing oddly sinister, and he jerked a grinning glance up toward Marick, causing him to flinch slightly.
"I-I'm not sure I know what you mean, Naemlize...!"
"I mean to'sh convince the lot that I sell clean, un- brown-dirt-tainted water. I’sh all ael' all quarrel of, these days.... You like to take water out of dirt?"
"Dirt out of water-not that I had to before. The streams are clean in the Gwenecael Caelepher.”
“What-what? Ah- I do not care! I'sh doesn’t- but no one here does, either! They do not bother, Aaron- you might, but they are lazy!Lazy lazy lazy---ffff...." The imp spat and hissed, excitedly, "I tell' em I'll 'ish clean that ick-tainted water… I will make 'em better- clearer- redder-- ae- Aaron? Water was meant to shine a good blue! And if not blue-ish, then red! Pearly red!"
"...Oh well, I suppose I know all about that, heh,” Marick mumbled, uncertainly, hesitating. “It was not enough- they make it in to wine," he grumbled this, and really meant to be disgusted.

Imp Fuddling! December 2, 2006

Freyah grumbled irritably when she found Marick. He was laying on his side as he stared tiredly out into nowhere.
“Marick, you folly fellow, stand up!” she demanded, and she flew down, settled her feet on his head and pulled a short strand of his hair that had settled over the sharp end of his ear. She tugged and she muttered under her breath, “Aaron…!”
“Hello little fairy…” he said softly in a dazed voice.
“Don’t hello me, Aaron- there are raiders coming this way!!”
“Oh- they must be friends…perhaps….perhaps Naemlize will be with them….share a drink…”
“No! Err-- that imp ill did you, again, didn’t he? I told you to stay away from him!!”
“Good ill…‘mpp..”
Freyah slid down to his shoulder by his ear, and she yanked on one of his two earrings, “STAND UP!!!” she cried.
He smiled dully and closed his eyes. “Emmm… hmmm…” he tittered, “I could use another…drink….hmmm..hmm…heh heh-”
It was no use, it seemed. Marick was long lost in his own odd little world, and he could barely understand her, let alone pay attention. He was far too…happy-and ill-wittedly dull.
Freyah sighed sadly, sitting down, and she folded her legs and rested her cheek on a fist, pouting. “I knew that imp was trouble…” she muttered.
“ACK!”
Someone had suddenly come out of the trees, unsuspecting of Marick’s presence along the grass: for they tripped over him with a loud audible thump.
Freyah was frozen in shock: her eyes wide. She’d been barely brushed against, but she knew if she’d been sitting any further down his shoulders she would have been killed.
The stranger quickly turned around onto his back, sitting up. Freyah turned around to see him slowly.
“Gaelswerth?” she frowned. “Wait now, where are you going?” she stood up and crawled on top of Marick’s head, pointing toward the path of the raiders, “There are Casbë coming this way. You’ve got to help me!”
“What’s wrong with him?” the moreh satyr asked, moving over before his face. He stood up and considered him curiously. “He’s smiling.”
“Oh, I don’t know! The Rum Imp met up with him and Sarrah and ruined his rations…. He’s odded out; intoxicated… drunk….”
“Is he going to make it?”
“Not if you leave him here….just….drag him….”
“I’ve carried him before…hold on.”
Gaelswerth knelt down and sat him up, placing the youth’s arm over his shoulders, and he picked him up  against him. “It’s a snub sad Winnefern isn’t with us! She’d love to make fun of him.”
“Oh shut up, Gaelswerth. He can’t help it.”
“I know.”
Freyah flew to settle on Marick’s shoulder: she wrapped her arms around a strand of his hair and Gaelswerth began to run in to the trees once more.

The Matter of Being Fuddled September 28, 2007

         “Oh…what’s gone about? I feel headachy.” Marick had finally stirred awake- he looked around the camp, curiously, where Gaelswerth, Winnefern and Freyah were settled- eating. “I was acting a little odd yesterday- what became me?” he rubbed the side of his face, blinking his tired eyes.
         Freyah- whom was sitting on Gaelswerth head, fluttered herself over onto Marick’s pack settled at his feet. “Your little imp ill did you. How did you come about him again??”
         “I-I’m not sure. Is he here?” he looked around the trees, dodgily. “I’m not fond of sleeping anymore- not in the woods nor in the fields…I might as well sleep up in the boughs…”
         “Haha…what’s so ill of being fuddled? I drink all the time, Marick," Gaelswerth tittered.
         “He’s had me drunk before but not like that,” Marick said. “He slipped me something a little heavier this time.”
         “Yes he did! And you are fortunate to be alive, Aaron- he may have killed you- perhaps he’s already scrambled a portion of your mind," Winnefern said.
         “Well I feel the same, I think. But let’s pray he’ll leave me alone from now on! I’ve not any money- he keeps going through my rations and running off with what ever he supposes he can sell.”