Making acquaintances.

In a cave within the Springfield forest

Sitting cross-legged in front of the smoldering ribcage of a half eaten deer, Dramar waited. He had performed the ritual three times already and had to resort to something that he did not like: ask for help.

Even this wasn't easy. The everwatching eye of Tarkos, Markur the Firegazer had been handling his task for many centuries, too many some would say. Suddenly in the flames the flicker of a face started to appear. The fiery vision was blurred, but Dramar knew him well. His black scales had washed away grey and the red ones had lost their brightness, he was missing many teeth that had stopped regrowing and his left eye was missing, an emberlit orbit left in its place.

"Markur, you ashen husk! I don't have time to waste," spat Dramar.

"Dramar... Oh, it's you, I remember not long ago you were only a hatchling. Why do you call upon me?" said the old sorcerer in a frail voice, twisted by his missing teeth.

"I found the bride, the trail is fresh... But I can't reach her, I can't take the fiery path to the place she is. I need you to send me somewhere."

"The bride, glorious news. The prophecy will come to be!"

"Listen, slag brained, old fool. Having her trail and having her are two different things. She's in a place a Jotunn told me about once, the great Warren under the stone forest of Nyjorvik. He said the place had powerful runes, naught shall enter but at the gates set by the lords of this place. I need you to send me to the maze for me to find one of these entrances. No matter where she resided these last days, it escapes my senses and your sight. Send me there with haste or I'll make sure your soul is rekindled in the eternal flame for having failed our Master."

"I will gather my best acolytes and begin the sacrifices for the ritual. The moon is not perfect and we won't have time to purify the slain by flame before it, but it will be done. Hail Tarkos!"

"Hurry, dried up gecko. Hail Tarkos!"

Dramar remained seated, grinding his teeth and checking that all his belongings were on him as the dying flames reflected on his glistening scales. He prayed to the lord Tarkos that the old mage understood what was at stake. His quarry was special, the most precious of all, but more than anything she was the last one in a long uninterrupted list of successful hunts. He had to catch her, none escaped the hunter. It could not start now, not on this hunt.

Thorn Mall, New York

John would never cease to be amazed by the way girls acted. Vesta, perfectly used to wander around totally naked without a concern for the world, was now wearing a lot more than the loincloth and cropped tube top that she had on when she arrived. Yet she was now acting shyly, pulling on the fabric as if she felt exposed.

"We need to go up two floors and walk a third of the circle clockwise to get to my medical supply shop," explained Tricia.

"What do you know about the sales girl at Lambda Securities?" asked John, curious to learn more about her.

"She's from Praxis, it's a technologically advanced realm, a bit cyberpunkish. I think something happened to her and she was sent here to hold their local office. She doesn't seem to like it much," explained Tricia.

"She's a huntress," said Vesta. "I know the look in her eye, the way she stood, checks things around her. She was a warrior or a huntress before."

"Do you know what a devastator is? Her info said she was a defective prototype," asked John.

"No idea. They provide cyborg mercenaries and guards, they do a lot of experimentation. Her augments don't look military grade to me. I guess if she failed an upgrade. Brrr, I mean, it must be horrible for an elite warrior to have your own body downgraded and be sent to become a shop clerk. Poor girl."

John suddenly stopped in front of a shop; the display window had text both in English and dwarvish runes. Stoutpeak and Deepvale weapon crafting and repairs, dwarven quality.

"Let's go in, I want to check something."

The inside of the shop was a mess, that was the long and short of it. The weapon shop had piles upon piles of weapons lying around the entrance in those gaudy 50% off shelves. Hammers, claymores and some weird half moon shaped swords were put on display in various glass boxes on a bed of silk with price tags to match the extravagant display. Small descriptions scribbled down underneath in a blockey, runic script. The wood of the ceiling was slightly blackened from what one could only assume to be tobacco, judging by the smoke column coming from a nearby dwarf.

The dwarf was an ugly one. A set of scars on his cheek and a monocle strapped to one of his eyes. A red, braided mustache flowing into a poofy red beard kept in place by three copper beard rings. A large pair of leather gloves covered his hands and a dark leather apron was strapped to his chest. He was sitting on the counter as he talked to a trio of people. Two tall humans, each wrapped in a green cloak and holding a snake head in their hand, the left one was obviously male, broad shoulders, a bit of a stubble could be seen from where John was standing, not much else was visible underneath his cloak, only a set of pouches attached to his biceps. The one standing next to him was shorter, a curvy, tanned brunette, a hint of sideboob could be seen; this woman was definitely curvy. The three of them were having a friendly chat as John looked at what the snakeheads were connected to. A small green skinned gorgon was looking around the shop, with a small, derpy looking snake hissing at some of the merchandise as she sang a nonexistent song to herself. “Snek snek snek, me and my snek snek snek, derping togeeeether.”

As John got in line, the conversation seemed to be winding down. “Well, Arnold, Miranda, tell that blighter Frederick to come and see me sometime, will ya! Been far too long since I saw his ugly mug in me shop. Oh and before I forget. Here are the things my girly asked for. You promise me that every single one of them gets to her, personally, alright?” the dwarf pulled out two duffel bags chiming with the sound of metal on metal. “If I hear you are mistreating my lil Ilis or if you had one of yer hunters deliver it in your stead, there will be hell ta pay.”

The man of the couple took one of the bags as the woman took the other one.

“Angus, don’t worry, I will deliver these bags as soon as we return. Personally, and I will tell her you love her, okay, you old grouch? Oh and if you are ever around, don’t hesitate to come by, okay? We will welcome you with open arms,” the woman answered as she hugged the smoking dwarf.

John advanced to the counter while the couple checked the bags they just received.

"Hey laddy, what brings you in my shop today?" asked the dwarf, checking the group of newcomers with an amused eye.

"I came upon this in my travels, can you do something about it?" said John, recovering the dwarven repeating crossbow and bolts from his inventory.

"By the forges of Nidavellir! It's been a long time since I saw one of these. A Burleigh and Stronginthearm Mark 3 Retributor, with some razorswift quarrels. Some fine craftsmanship, can't find the same these days. It's broken, hmm... I hope you didn't have to kill a dwarf to get your hands on this, because I know few of them that would part with it."

The couple of humans had stopped what they were doing to follow what was being said. They seemed impressed by the weapon.

"Worry not. The former owner was sadly long deceased when I found them in a warren of ravenous ratlike creatures. They had no use for it anymore and it looked like a waste to leave it to rust there."

"Rust? Rust? You think we dwarves have nothing else to do than to forge marvels like these in any metal that would just rust?" he replied, spitting on the ground as if to ward against a curse. "And what happened to these creatures that felled my kinsmen?"

"I killed them of course, their many workers, their warriors, their breeders, their leaders. By blade, magic, arrow, or fire, we ended them all."

"Hahaha, boy I like you, even if you'd better find yourself a sturdy dwarf girl rather than a skinny pointy eared twig. Hmm, no offense of course. You seem to have an almost dwarven taste for grudges. OK, I can repair. Let's have a drink to my fallen kin and the **** of their foes. I'll throw you a discount on the repairs."

"This elf helped kill these creatures; I won't tolerate attacks against those under my care," said John in the most serious tone he could manage.

"Apologies, lass. Not used to deal with your kind. I didn't thought."

The dwarf dug under the counter and produced three decorated pints and three smaller glasses. The pints were full to the brim with a foamy liquid which according to everything John knew about dwarves was beer. The glasses were empty, but he had fetched a small bottle containing a weird liquid and covered in condensation, a barely readable label simply stated "Scumble".

"Be careful to no let it touch metal, it reacts weirdly." said the dwarf.

John had no qualms trying the beer, even if it was famous for being a strong beverage, but the weird bottle was making him anxious. As the dwarf took it to pour, John put his hand over the glasses to interrupt him.

"You're already offering us some renowned dwarven ale, how about something of mine to pair with it. It's a little something we brew where I live," said John, fishing a bottle of elixir from his inventory.

"Hey, it won't be said that any self respecting dwarf ever refused a drink!" replied Angus.

"If you like it, I'll leave you the bottle as part of the fees for the crossbow," said John as he filled the thimbles with the amber colored liquid.

The dwarf downed his pint of ale in almost the time it would have taken John to drink the small glass. Both John and Vesta were more cautious with it. John had already tasted beer, his dad had let him have a sip from his glass once on one of his birthdays. This had nothing in common with it. On top of being a lot stronger than beer should be, it was really flavorful, with none of the aftertaste that John hadn't liked before.

The dwarf looked and smelled the small shot glass suspiciously before drinking it in one go too. John had handed his pint to Anna and Tricia who wanted to take a small sip from it.

"That's not an elven drink?" asked Angus.

"No elf was involved in creating this drink. Nor imagining it."

"Well, I like it, I'll gladly dispose of this bottle for you." The bottle in question was more than half full, not really what one would call trash. "I'll have this beauty fixed in no time, come by in an hour."

The couple of humans was almost giggling, they had stayed there waiting for it finish.

"When I'll tell that to Frederick, he won't believe us. Angus drinking with an elf. That's too good. Come on, Mimi, let's go! Mimi?" said the man.

Hearing this John quickly looked around for a red lizard, only to find him as suspiciously missing as the small serpent haired creature.

"Dargon? Oh not again!" he realized his mistake. In the confines of the shop, Vesta had let go of his hand, and while she was drinking (she had finished both of her drinks and didn't seem really affected, possibly due to her fiery metabolism), she had let him out of her sight.

"We have to find Mimi before she starts messing around. Do you think they are together?" the woman asked John.

"Knowing him, yes. At least until something shiny or awesome catches his eye or he gets hungry and he forgets he was with someone," he replied.

"Oh no, you have one of these too? We have to find them fast, who knows what the two of them could do together."

The new improvised search party screamed the names of the two derpy creatures a few more times, just in case they had decided to play hide and seek in the shop. Finally they rushed out of the shop and started scanning the crowd for clues of where they could have gone. They decided to split to cover more ground. John, Anna and the woman, Miranda, would go left out of the store while Tricia, Vesta and the man, Arnold, would go right. That way both groups could communicate and knew both of the missing critters.

The relaxing shopping trip had just become a scavenger hunt. No one had the time to enjoy the scenery or the shops, anything was only looked at to evaluate their attractivity to derpy lizards.

A few seconds after John's group passed a stand, a small, grey, furry creature twitched. He handed a gnome a plastic bag full of purple pills and took the wad of cash offered in exchange.

"By my horns! It can't be, this smells like... Folphoria Aeftlanis, there's no way! Someone sells some? No, not only that, it has the same smell as the drink Luciano had..." said Liam to himself. "I have to follow this!"