Drabble Week isn't over until I say it's over.

[oroburos69]

Got caught doing last minute labs earlier this week (ESRI ArcGIS can burn for eternity. WTF is their problem with goddamn tables? User unfriendly. Fuck them) So, I'm finishing off now.
And all this stuff is unbetaed, so mistakes are all my fault.

 

Forgotten Realms- Glory-1500 words

It was in the middle of a storm, rain falling so thick and fast that horizon is obscured by them. It was a simple thing, really. A wizard—they didn’t learn his name then—being menaced by a giant eyeball. Jarlaxle and Entreri saved him because… well, they weren’t sure why.

A ten day later, a complete stranger told them that he loved their work. They brushed it off as lunatic ravings, and rode on to the next town where they killed a gang of lizardmen threatening the schoolhouse. The innkeeper gave them a free night’s stay and beer on the house.

On the road to Waterdeep, a group of adventurers paused when they saw Jarlaxle. A doe-eyed half-elf smiled at him. She wove a daisy crown and draped it around the brim of his hat while Entreri watched in bemusement. The group left after a few more minutes, telling Jarlaxle and Entreri how very brave they were.

An uneasy stirring grew took root, but was pushed away by a pressing need to slaughter the green dragon that was trying to eat Jarlaxle. It killed their horses, but they lured it into a trap and put the beast to death.

They passed Waterdeep without entering, the effort needed to get Jarlaxle through the gates deemed not worth it.

Four miles up the road, a dozen of the Waterdeep guard charged them on galloping horses. Jarlaxle and Entreri scattered to the side of the road, hands resting on their weapons. The leader called them by name—by name—and issued an invitation into Waterdeep on the behalf of the Council of Lords.

Jarlaxle and Entreri were tempted, but neither had lived this long by accepting suspicious invitations. They declined, indicating that they were actually headed to Silverymoon. The head guard frowned blackly, and offered them a free stay at the best inn in Waterdeep. Jarlaxle called on Kimmurial, and the two of them escaped, a flurry of protests behind them.

They spent a day or two in Menzoberranzan, checking over Jarlaxle’s investments—or rather, Jarlaxle checked his investments, and Entreri taught a good dozen of the younger guards how to play poker (Kimmurial eventually played out of boredom while Jarlaxle went through the accounts).

Back on the surface, it started to snow, covering the trees in thick blankets of white. Jarlaxle packed snowballs and threw them at Entreri, but was caught off guard when

The next night, Jarlaxle seemed more tired than usual, and pale as well. Another day passed and Jarlaxle’s bones ached to badly for walking, so they holed up in a secluded grotto to wait for his fever to break. By the end of the third night, Entreri had allowed Jarlaxle to curl up against him for warmth, because the fever had broken and taken all Jarlaxle’s heat with it. Four days in, Jarlaxle developed a rasping cough and Entreri wrapped him in blankets and cloaks. Entreri stood silent guard, making batch after batch of willow bark tea, filling the cave with green-scented steam.

The morning of day five, a lovely priestess of Selune knocked on the edge of the cave mouth. She offered to heal Jarlaxle for free, and smiled shyly when they asked why.

By the morning of day six, Jarlaxle was fine. They continued on their way to Silverymoon, running into an absurd amount of people on the road. Entreri saved a five year old from drowning in an icy river—mostly on accident, but still. Jarlaxle was given no less than a dozen quilts and comforters by complete strangers. He gave a woolen one to the boy Entreri rescued.

They took a shortcut through a marsh, and on its half-frozen edges found a starving wolf, paw locked in a metal trap. Entreri considered killing it and Jarlaxle considered wearing it but they decided to free it instead. It growled weakly when they pulled its paw free, but drank healing potion from Jarlaxle’s hand.

For three days the wolf followed them, ragged white fur filling in on a constant diet of rabbits and healing potions. Jarlaxle named it—him—Zack, and Entreri named it Wolf.

On the fourth day, the wolf disappeared, rubbing against their legs like an affectionate cat before bounding into the brush. Jarlaxle gathered a dozen of its shed hairs and hid them in the brim of his hat. Entreri killed an extra rabbit and left it in the woods, just in case.

Their short cut was hardly shorter, when they found a ramshackle house empty of furniture but free of dust. It was snowing, so they took shelter behind its grayed wood walls, building a fire in the abandoned hearth.

Night fell without notice, the howling wind and dark clouds blocking the last rays of the sun. They slept in nook beside the fire, shoulder to shoulder and arm to arm.

Jarlaxle woke up before Entreri. The fire had gone out and the cold chill of the outside whispered through cracks in the walls. He could see the holes, dark holes in the pale remains of the fire’s heat.

A glint of something colder than the room drew his eye, and he pulled a tarnished silver necklace from a crack in the floor. It was cheaply made and he nearly put it back. Before he could, a drop of blood fell from its links, splashing into the gray wood floor.

One white eyebrow crooked, and he looked at it more carefully. The necklace was clean except for tarnish, but another drop of blood dripped to the floor. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he shivered, looking up.

A figure colder than the wind outside stood alone in the centre of the room. Jarlaxle allowed his vision to shift return to normal. The figure glowed faintly, a little girl dressed in a pretty white dress, rabbit made of rags dangling from her hand. She smiled sadly and offered him the translucent stuffed rabbit. Jarlaxle reached out, his fingers brushing over well-loved fabric, oddly warm. Her smile brightened and she disappeared, giggling softly.

Jarlaxle smiled back, and placed the necklace on the mantle before restarting the fire.

The morning dawned bright and clear, snow drifts gleaming brilliant white. On their way down the road, boots sinking deep into the fresh snow, Jarlaxle wandered off into the woods. Entreri followed behind him, quiet as always.

Not far from the road is a quiet glade. Human bones are chained to an old oak tree, and Jarlaxle worried that it was the little girl for a moment. But the skull was much too large, and the bones far too long. A slow shimmer of light and she was skipping along beside him, her bare gray feet leaving no impression on the snow.

Entreri blinked, but said nothing, content to watch.

Jarlaxle knelt in front of the frosted bones, and bushed the snow away from the corpse. Rotting scraps of fabric or tissue crinkled under his hands, but under the layers of snow he found a soft and ever so slightly warm rabbit made of rags. Jarlaxle handed it to the ghost, and she darted forward, hugging him like a heavy draft before disappearing.

Four days later they walked into a trading town. Hundreds of people neither of them knew lined the streets, watching them with intent interest. Jarlaxle and Entreri walked into the inn and were offered a free stay, a pair of matching black mares, and a dozen platters of freshly baked breads and pastries. They smiled awkwardly and walked out the backdoor, disappearing into the shadows and fleeing the town.

Jarlaxle contacted Kimmurial, who suggested returning to Menzoberranzan. Entreri shrugged when Jarlaxle asked his opinion, so they returned to the depths of the earth. Entreri taught sleight of hand to Kimmurial, and Jarlaxle took advantage of the opportunity to rest, taking up sleeping as a hobby.

Boredom drove them from the dark, and they returned to the surface, taking the penultimate shortcut and arriving a mile away from Silverymoon’s gates.

Jarlaxle led the way up the snow covered hill that overlooked the city, where they laid back and watched the stars. The moon rose, somehow closer here; and they didn’t talk for a long time.

Footsteps approached their lonesome hill, and Jarlaxle propped himself up, while Entreri remained still, soft clouds of frost air rising from his lips. Neither was surprised when Drizzt Do’Urden sat down beside them, snow crunching under his weight.

Entreri glanced over, remembering years of hate and obsession. It all seemed pointless now, and a hollow feeling of satisfaction accompanied the realization.

Drizzt told them why the world had become so strange; and quiet descended as Entreri and Jarlaxle considered their response.

“They’re watching us?” Entreri asked uneasily.

“Why?” Jarlaxle asked in confusion.

“Because you’re interesting and funny when you aren’t trying to kill me,” Drizzt shifted in the comfortable grasp of the snow drift, the chill refreshing him.  “But you’re less impressive without background music,” he added.

Zombieland- bad-100 words

Falling in love happens, not just as a result of affection, but of circumstance.

When there are only four people left alive in a world of cannibalistic mutants, affection is a matter of necessity as much as it is a matter of genuine liking, which is why a love affair between two of the last four people on earth was almost to be expected.

One day it becomes three.

Years later it becomes four.

Wichita lies in bed beside her sister, who doesn’t know that what they’ve done is wrong, only that she wants it.

She never quite forgives herself.