Wedding Presents

Originally posted on Tales of the Parodyverse by Manga Shoggoth.

Parodyverse characters copyright (c) 2006 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works.

"There is no greater joy", I used to tell my Aunt Lavinia, "than - after a long and exciting life as an adventurer - settling down to tend your own little garden."

Well, I admit that my "garden" is actually the town graveyard, and I have been tending it for more generations that I care to remember - certainly far more time than I spent as an adventurer - but the principle is sound. I have seen adventurers come and (occasionally) go, but the garden remains the same. That reminds me, I really must do some tidying in the mausoleum. It is starting to get full again.

I can see the town messenger coming up the hill. Gardening may be a joy, but there is nothing quite like the occasional unexpected letter.

It is a small package, addressed to "The Caretaker, Town Graveyard" rather than using my real name. The writing is in a female hand and the package itself sealed with wax. To one such as myself it is also clearly spelled against intrusion. Much to the disappointment of the messenger I leave the package on the table in my hovel and go back to composting the flowerbeds. There is nothing like compost for growing flowers, not to mention its efficaciousness in getting rid of unwanted snoops. I believe in the privacy of the mails, even if the town messenger doesn't.

When the gathering dusk makes the gardening difficult I returned to my hovel. After a meal of bacon and beans (the former a relic of the last group of idiots seeking the Tomb of Thevros the Undying) I settle down to make a closer examination of the package.

The package contains a sealed letter and small number of cloth bags containing some soft, irregular lumps and some folded paper packets that rattle if shaken. It is but a moment's work to break the seal on the letter (a nice piece of casting, I might add), at which point I sit back and read.

From Shadowfire, Magus Magna Excursive.

Many greetings.

Ah yes, Shadowfire. Nice lass. One of the more amusing taglines for a Mage as well. I get so bored with the "Mage Most Extraordinary" crowd, and don't get me started on the plague of "Nameless Mages".

Our quest continues to drag us across all regions of the map. We have ploughed our way through more cities, wildernesses and bazaars than I care to count. Not that we have to any more, but Orion swore an oath to find the lost relics of his former order, and he is sticking to it.

In the mean time I have collected some bulbs and seeds from the various places we have passed through, in the hopes that they will grow well in your graveyard.

Wonderful woman! When I was out in the field I never thought of taking time to pick the flowers.

The ring you gave me proved useful after all. I managed to back Orion into a corner during the feast of St Oswald, and he accepted my proposal. Actually, it was quite embarrassing: he went down on one knee and started to swear eternal and undying love and loyalty in true High Style, until I shut him up with a kiss. Saroc, who was dancing nearby with one of the local girls, actually cracked a smile.

Hmmm... Tell me about "undying". At least Saroc seems to be a little less dour.

Alas, Orion's preceptors did not take kindly to his relationship with "a heretical witch and temptress", let alone marrying her. After a rather heated series of exchanges they stripped him of his knighthood and threw him out of the Order of St Fania. Now that he no longer has to act the archetypical Paladin he has loosened up a little bit, but he doesn't seem to have lost any of his divinely-granted powers.

Ah yes, young Fania. She was always something of a romantic. I'm not surprised that she would smile on a knight who fell in love. How she ended up as the patron saint for a celibate order I'll never know.

Our last little adventure might amuse you. We were following up a rumour that the Misericord of Fania was held in the hoard of Kivaxoranus Draconicus, an ancient dragon who was said to lair in the Mountains of Insanity, in a frozen land far to the south.

Well, after much travelling we found the mountains. In a cold plateau within the mountain range, we finally found the Dragon's cave...

Shadowfire regarded the cave with a distinct lack of pleasure. It had been a long journey, she was cold, and the process of searching the plateau had been far from pleasant. The plateau was littered with the rotted remains of crumbling buildings and broken statues, built by some long-forgotten race. Mercifully, the detritus had been burned almost into featureless melted rock by dragonfire, but the broken remains still exuded an air of corruption and madness. Whatever had been here before, the dragon had taken great care to sear it out of existence. Or had been in a really bad mood - for a moment she considered the terrible possibility of a dragon that suffered from really bad PMT.

The cave should have been brooding and mysterious. Instead, the cave entrance looked half-melted, cold and probably damp.

They descended into the caves, checking for the usual dangers - loose rocks, slime underfoot, the occasional trap - but otherwise making no attempt to conceal their presence. They were here to bargain, not to steal.

The cave walls and floor were melted smooth. Here and there were signs of ancient carvings, smeared and distorted by dragonfire. What was worrying was that some of the carvings looked as if they had only recently been burned, and there was no sign of moss or lichen on the rocks. Eventually, the tunnel lead to a huge cavern, big enough to hold a city. The cavern floor was uneven, as if it had been littered with huge boulders that had then been melted into lumpy mounds by intense fire.

Then, as they crossed the cavern, the torchlight revealed the truth. The mounds were too regular in shape to be inconvenient boulders melted out of the way. They were indeed walking on what remained of an ancient city.

It took them half an hour to cross the cavern. At the far end of the was a vast pile of treasure, and, as expected, a dragon was in residence. Orion moved to the fore of the group. Shadowfire was the best at dealing with "the common people", but she acknowledged that Orion was a true expert when it came to high style.

The dragon sniffed and stirred. They waited for it to make the first move, and hoped that it would not be pre-emptive dragonfile. The dragon sniffed again, as if chasing an elusive scent.

"Ah. Visitors... A fighter, a mage, and...". The dragon stopped, uncoiling itself slightly. It raised its head to look down at the party. Shadowfire suppressed an urge to run.

Now that the party had been addressed, Orion spoke. "Mighty Kivaxoranus, great dragon. We have come in search of..."

"Hmmmm... A true paladin of Fania? How curious." interrupted the dragon. "Evidently you no longer charge screaming at dragons. A shame to see the traditions fall by the wayside - although it makes a change to be able to talk to one of your kind, rather than breathing over you. I suppose you seek to steal that dagger once sported by your precious Saint."

"Great wyrm, I have been cast out of the Order of St Fania, and am no longer a paladin. We now quest for the relics of the Saint only because I swore an oath to recover them. We do not intend to steal from your hoard, but to make true payment for the item, if it is indeed amongst your treasures."

The dragon seemed to consider this for a moment. "I think I know the spoor of a paladin when I smell it..." it turned its gaze to Shadowfire, "...and I smell your spoor on him also. Tell me, little mage, what do you think would be appropriate payment for such a treasure?"

Shadowfire found herself trembling slightly in the face of a draconic toothy grin. Some dragons had... predictable... tastes.

Further conversation was prevented by the sound of footsteps. Shadowfire looked round to see a figure in a white robe striding briskly across the cavern floor. As the figure came closer, she could discern a dark-skinned female, not unattractive, but clearly not in a very good mood.

"Kivaxoranus Draconicus!" yelled the female.

Shadowfire spun round. There was no longer a dragon there, only a rather worried-looking elf.

"No dragons here!" blurted the elf, in something of a panic. "Just us random humans... Elves and humans... Standard adventuring things..."

The female closed in on the elf, who slowly backed away until it fell over backwards on to the lower spillage of the hoard.

"Kivaxoranus Draconicus!" yelled the female again.

"Not me! I'm a human... erm... Elf! Elf! Just a passing Elf! Honest!"

The female stared at the frantic elf. "Are you sure? You look a little draconic about the ears..."

The panicky elf paused in its attempt to burrow backwards into the hoard. "It's eczema. Look, I have a balm for it!". The elf grabbed at a stoppered bottle and pulled the stopper out.

This was something of a tactical error - the bottle contained not balm, but an efreet, who took one look at the tableau and vanished in a very rapid puff of smoke. The distraction gave the woman enough time to hoist up the elf by the folds of its cloak. Either the elf was very light, or the woman was very strong.

"Stop mucking around! I'm looking for a wedding present, and the boss thinks that something from a dragons hoard would be a good idea. I need a golden figure. Either a heroic one or one of those rather questionable ones you looted from the Temple of Xochiquetzal. In return, I don't tell the boss what you have done to this version of the caves."

The elf sagged. "Over there." he sighed, waving a hand towards the back of the pile. The woman leaped across the hoard, carelessly scattering treasure as she disappeared behind the hoard. There followed several minutes of metallic clanking, followed by a cry of "Perfect!".

Then there was a moment of terrible silence.

Shadowfire looked at the creature, now a somewhat shamefaced dragon again, and smiled a toothy grin of her own.

Of course, we now had a wonderful bargaining chip. What is most valuable to a dragon? Its pride!

In return for agreeing not to speak of these events to any other person we were presented with the Misericord of Fania. Kivaxoranus even gave us some clues to where the rest of the panoply may have gone.

Anyway, we all remain well and, if our quest permits, hope to winter at your end of the country. Saroc in particular is in favour of this as he "has seen enough damn icebergs to last him a lifetime".

Until we next meet.

Shadowfire of the House of Stargazer.

Well, something to look forward to this winter. I wonder if Fania would be interested in seeing this letter. I'll have to ask her next time Aunt Lavinia calls.

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