Topic: Rue des Farfadets

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-03-09 11:20 EST
How did I miss this? Glenn crouched on the small concrete stoop in front of the left-most door of his shop. He had opened the red-painted, dented door dozens of times, without a second thought. This time, though, as he shut the door behind him, he happened to see something...odd. A slightly raised section in the door, rectangular in shape, almost...like another door. With the coat of paint covering it, it was impossible to tell what exactly it was. Taking a step back onto the crumbling sidewalk, he frowned. Here and there, the paint had chipped away, revealing the original gray metal color. This would not do. This would not do at all. Sighing, he stepped forward, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. He had some paint remover in there somewhere...

A few hours later, well after the sun had set and the moon had come out, Glenn finished stripping the door to its original unpainted glory, although there was little he could do about the dents. After putting away the remover and pouring himself a glass of water, he stepped back outside, to examine the entrance again. At about knee level, a quarter of the way up the front door or so, there appeared to have been another door cut into it. It was about as tall as his index finger, maybe a little bit taller, and as wide as the span across his index and middle finger. Basic panels had been etched into the smaller entryway, in contrast to the stark industrial design of the larger door it was placed in. The carpenter grasped the tiny door knob, and attempted to open it. At first, it stuck fast, squealing its protest to being opened after so much time spent painted shut, but Glenn's persistence eventually paid off when it finally swung loosely on its hinges. With a triumphant grin on his face, he stepped inside to retrieve some lubricant and a tiny screwdriver for the hinges. He wasn't entirely sure why there was a door within a door, but he would be damned if it wasn't the cleanest, smoothest mini-door on all of Rue des Farfadets.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-04-18 21:59 EST
Brisk winds whipped rain against the windows of Glenn's shop, but the carpenter couldn't hear the near-constant smack of water against glass from his position in the back of the store. The fact that he was testing out a new hand-held electrical saw made it easier to ignore the spring storm making a mess of Rue des Farfadets underdeveloped gutters and storm drains, and the dirt-packed roads that were swiftly turning to mud on the neighboring streets. It was more than loud enough to drown out the quite insistent tapping sound at his front door...

Satisfied that the saw worked, Glenn shut it off and set it aside, heading into the front section of his store. On a day like this, he wasn't expecting any customers to come by, but he periodically walked through the front anyways, to straighten things up and to be visible on the off chance someone was foolhardy enough to walk in the rain. The taps at the door mixed in with the raindrops beating against the building, but after a few minutes of listening to the ambient noise outside, Glenn's ears twitched a little. There's a...pattern somewhere in there. He stepped closer to the door, to try and listen closer. The pattern didn't become any clearer, but something else did. Voices.

?Let us in, monsieur. Madame. S'il vous pla?t!? With the thick metal door between them, all he could tell of the voice was that it was female.

?The door's unlocked.? Glenn shouted, hopefully loud enough to be heard over the storm.

?Non, monsieur. You must give us permission to enter.?

?What? I'll just open the door.? He grabbed the handle, only to hear a shriek from the other side.

?Do not open it! We are too close! S'il vous pla?t, let us come in!? The voice pleaded with Glenn, whose earlier annoyance faded away quickly. He looked up at the ceiling, then down at the floor, then straight ahead. After staring at the door for a while, he slowly shook his head yes.

?Alright. Come in.? Almost as soon as the last word was spoken, the tiny door set inside the larger one swung open, and three gossamer-winged, flying women darted in, soaked to the skin by the rain and wearing little more than the ragged and muddy remnants of what must have once been brightly colored dresses. Before he could react any further, they flew at him in a beeline, throwing their arms around his neck and clinging to the collar of his shirt. They sobbed, muttering incoherently in French as they pressed themselves against him. If not for the fact that their height was best measured in inches and not feet, he might have hugged them back, but instead he just stood near the front door, shocked and confused, as they cried on his neck and drenched his shirt with mud, water, and tears.

?Too long has it been, homme bon, since we were Allowed here. We cannot express our gratitude for your kindness.? The one who had been speaking at the door earlier spoke again, her voice rich and honeyed, if a little more high-pitched than he was accustomed to.

?Wait.? Glenn tried to look down at his collar, but with their size and position, it was difficult to see them, let alone make eye contact. ?What the hell's going on??

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-04-21 13:37 EST
Before they talked to Glenn, the diminutive women asked Glenn if they could wash up and change into fresh clothes. An eyebrow lifted at the clothing request, but he agreed nonetheless and showed them where the restroom was. There wasn't a shower or bathtub in there, but the hand sink would be more than adequate for the task. Unfortunately, they weren't nearly big or strong enough to twist the faucet knobs themselves. Glenn had to slowly fill the sink by barely twisting the cold and hot water knobs, while each fairy in turn hovered just over the water to test the temperature. All the while, he was trying his best not to peek at them while they were undressed, which added an extra layer of difficulty to the task.

After each one finished their bath, they fluttered out of the bathroom and into one of his storage closets. It wasn't until well over an hour later, when each woman had long finished their shower and flown off to whatever was back in the closet, that they finally emerged again, wearing clean but wrinkled dresses in pastel shades of yellow, blue, and purple. When they returned, Glenn gestured for them to follow him into his workroom, where he sat down at a desk. The trio sat on the edge of the surface, randomly kicking their legs as they listened to him.

?So you want to tell me what exactly's going on?? Glenn was trying to sound as sympathetic as possible, but there was more than a hint of irritation in his voice.

?Before we speak, perhaps we should introduce ourselves, hmm?? The one who had spoken earlier at the door, dressed in the blue dress, spoke up once more.

?Sure. I'm Glenn.? He paused briefly, before adding, ?Woodwright.?

?Je m'appelle Olivie. This is Giselle,? She pointed to the woman in the purple dress. ?And this is Oc?ane.? She gestured to the one in the yellow outfit.

?Nice to meet you.?

?Merci beaucoup, Monsieur,? Oc?ane said, looking nervously down at her legs. Where Olivie's voice was sweet and light, Oc?ane's was even higher-pitched, and squeaked at times. ?Your kindness will not be forgotten.?

?It's nothing, really.?

?It is... 'ow you say? It is not nothing, monsieur.? Giselle's voice was more heavily accented than the other two, and managed to sound both shy, smokey, and sultry all at once. She anxiously smoothed out creases in her dress.

?So...you're fairies.? Glenn attempted to move from pleasantries to the heart of the matter.

?Yes...and no.? Olivie's nose wriggled and her eyes crossed as she replied.

?Well, you've got wings, you're really short (no offense), and you kind of remind me of other fairies I've met. So if you're not fairies, what are you??

?Nous sommes Les Farfadets.? At the blank look from Glenn, Oc?ane attempted to translate. ?There is no word for it in Common, but, ah...maybe-?? She looked to Giselle and Olivie for help.

? 'ouse spirits?? Giselle responded.

?Oui, that is close.? Olivie said.

?So...you're brownies.? Glenn's brow wrinkled slightly, as he tried to remember the term for house spirits he had been taught at school. The outraged cries from the women made him start, sitting upright in his chair.

?Mais non!? Oc?ane squeaked.

?That is not it at all!? Olivie added.

?This...brownie, 'e is ugly,? Giselle chipped in. ?We are ugly, Monsieur ?? Glenn took a moment to look them over more carefully than before. Where before their dirty clothes and mud-encrusted hair had made them look very similar to each other, a change of clothes and bath had made them prettier. Their hair was long and straight, down past their shoulders; Olivie and Giselle's were chocolate brown, while Oc?ane's was red. Their eyes were deep pools of lagoon blue, such that Glenn almost swore his face was reflected in them. Otherwise, they were petite in every way.

?No. You're not ugly.? Their squeals of delight surprised him once again. He held up a hand, seeing they were about to speak again. ?But that's not the important thing. What's important is...what's going on? I'm really confused.?

?The story-? Oc?ane cut herself off, frowning, and wrinkled her nose, before speaking a little slower and more deliberately. ?It is a long one.?

?I don't care,? Glenn said with a dismissive wave. ?I'd rather not be surprised again.?

?D'accord,? Oc?ane continued. ?Olivie, can you tell this?? The other woman nodded vigorously, and began to tell their story.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-04-24 21:34 EST
Olivie's legs stilled, as she started their tale. ?Les farfadets, we come from the Southern Glen. Or our...euh, how do you say...our ancestors, they come from the Southern Glen. They were happy to live in peace there, spending their days singing, laughing, flying around the flowers and trees and the lake there. But our ancestors, they tired of this. The same thing, every day, no change, nothing better, nothing worse. L'ennui, he was intolerable by them. So many years ago, they flew away, even though the others warned them. 'You cannot survive in the city!' 'There are horrible monsters there, beasts that feed on our kind!' 'How can you betray what you have always been, what you have always come from?' But they paid it no mind.?

?Then what happened?? Curious about the story, Glenn interrupted.

?They come here, and found that the elders were right. There were demons, vampires, werewolves, creatures we had never seen and could not comprehend. Some of us died. Some of us fled back to the glen, shamed. But some of us were stronger, smarter, more desperate and more willing to do something different with our lives. We sought out the residents of these streets, les terrestres. We ask-asked them 'Can you protect us? We have magic, but we are not strong enough to protect ourselves alone.' But they did not know what to do.? Olivie frowned briefly, looking down at her feet, before she looked up again and continued.

?This man, Jean-Th?r?se Laflamme, he hears about us. And he is touched, to the core of his heart. He brings them together, and he tells them, 'I can help you, but you may not like the solution.' We say, 'Non, monsieur, we wish to stay, even if it is hard. The city, she is beautiful to us, even with the bad, and you have been nothing but kind to us. What is it you wish?' He tells us the buildings, the stone, the brick, the wood, the straw, the building materials, they are enchanted. Magical. We can tap into this magic, protect ourselves, but only if we Bind ourselves to the building. Swear to protect it, and those who live there. We did, and we have done this to this day.?

?Alright, but if that's the case, why were you outside, like you weren't allowed in here??

?C'?tait horrible!? Giselle cried out, strangling a sob. Oc?ane leaned over and hugged her friend, patting her on the shoulder and whispering comforting words in French. When Giselle had finally composed herself, Olivie went on.

?When we came of age, we Bound ourselves to this building, in place of the previous farfadets. Our first...what is the word?? Olivie looked to her companions for an answer.

?Protecteur,? Oc?ane quickly replied.

?Oui. Our first protecteur, he sculpted marble. For years, we watched each other, inspired each other. And then he fell ill, and passed away, que Dieu b?nisse son ?me.?

?Amen.? Oc?ane and Giselle said in unison.

?So the building...there was a new 'protecteur',? Olivie's face wrinkled in obvious disgust. ?He said he was a motorcycle repairman, but he really made his keep with drugs. We begged him to stop, to change, but he would not listen. So we told the guard.?

?But the guard, he did not help. The man, he hid everything, so there was no proof. And then, we were Cast out, forbidden from entering. A week later, he was dead, killed by some...other drug dealers. And we could not come back.?

?You couldn't?? Glen lifted an eyebrow, his gaze bouncing from fairy to fairy.

?Non, monsieur,? Giselle said. ?It is... the store, 'e was abandoned. We cannot enter if there is no locataire.? Glenn's puzzled look at the French had her scrambling for a definition. ?I am trying to think...you do not own this, but you borrow it, oui??

?Yeah, I'm renting it.?

?Oui! You rent it, and the spell, she is no longer dormant.? Giselle couldn't help but look at Glenn in that moment with hopeful blue eyes. Olivie cleared her throat, and Giselle murmured an apology to the other woman. Even so, Olivie couldn't hide her own hope when she looked back to Glenn to complete her story.

?So we are 'ere-here, and you are here, but that is not enough to protect us. You must let us stay. You must!? Three sets of pleading eyes looked up to him.

?I...? He stared down at them for a long moment. They radiated hope and fear, so strong he swore he could see it in the air, rippling like heat, ebbing and flowing in a rhythm like a heartbeat. Finally, he gave a slow, single nod of his head 'yes.' ?I'll do it. What do we have to do??

They did not answer, but instead flew to his neck and collarbone again to hug him as tightly as they could.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-04-28 12:00 EST
Glenn had cleared out a large space in the center of his store, pushing and cramming and stacking furniture against the walls to make space. As he rearranged the floor, the fairies went and gathered the material components necessary for the binding spell: chalk to draw the casting circle, rainwater from outside, wood ash from the furnace he hadn't used in months, a red feather from a cardinal, and soil from the lawn next door. After drawing a perfect circle, they placed the items in the center, then flew over to Glenn, who was wiping sweat off of his forehead.

?Monsieur...it is...we are needing you to bring us a piece of the building for the spell,? Giselle said. ? 'e is too 'eavy for us.?

?Alright. I'll be right back.? Glenn ducked out the back double-doors and grabbed a crumbling piece of concrete from the back stoop in his cupped hands. He re-entered the shop and deposited it with the rest of the spell components.

?That is it,? Olivie said, fluttering over to the edge of the circle and sitting down. ?Now, we sit, and press both hands against the circle. Leave it to us.? The other two women and Glenn sat down as well, at her prompting. The three fairies then started chanting quietly in French, a language that was unknown to Glenn and yet...in many ways, it was familiar. He couldn't understand the words, of course, but he understood the meaning and the desire of them all too well. It could have elvish, dwarvish, or gibberish, and he would have known it was a spell anyway, by the monotone voices, the excitement threatening to creep up in each syllable, and the slow and measured pace they spoke in. Instinctively, in spite of what his professors at Sygil had always told him, he shut his eyes.

He knew the spell was working when he could smell the magic in the air: first a hint of ozone, then the mingled scents of the components they had used. It was earthy, like the aftermath of a heavy downpour, the worms tilling the soil with their pink, wriggling bodies and the robins lurking on wet branches to capture them and spirit them back to their nestlings. Next, he could feel the energy crawl through the air, electric, making the hairs on his arm stand on end. Soon, he could feel the mana inside him, like every nerve was firing at once, his blood pumping and roaring through his body like waves on the stormy seas. Wait a second. I've never felt a spell like this-

It was the last thought that crossed his mind before the black behind his eyelids flashed to white.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-05-07 23:18 EST
Glenn opened his eyes to see a ring of blinding light where the casting circle had once been drawn. It was so bright he couldn't see the fairies through the glare, and he could barely hear their terrified cries over the roar of the wild magic. It hissed, it howled, it threatened to deafen him and madden him with its hideous, unnatural noises and brutally loud volume.

?Monsieur, au secours!? He didn't need to understand the language to know it was a desperate plea for help.

?Hang on!? Glenn yelled above the din, gathering his wits. The magic was surging, attempting to escape its makeshift prison within the magic ring and destroy them. He could feel it crashing against the boundaries of the circle, licking and splashing against his hands, burning and freezing and corroding and flaying his flesh, all at once. He ignored the pain and muttered a cantrip beneath his breath. The green of his eyes darkened, and the white circular hue shifted to an angry red, with orange body-shaped splotches where the women must have been. He blinked, and his eyes returned to jade, before he suddenly barked at the wayward spell, and reached his hands towards it. ?Rihlilg arcaniss!? He pulled the magic towards him, biting his lip until it bled as the uncontrolled mana lashed out at him, inflicting just about every sort of injury possible. He watched as the magic disappeared, sucked out of the circle into his hands, where it vanished from sight. By the time he had absorbed the last of it, his forehead was coated in sweat, he was breathing heavily, and his hands were screaming with agony. He heard the fairies' gasps, as they looked at him, but he ignored them for the time being. His eyes crossed, uncrossed, panned from left to right as he thought. He tapped his finger once against his forehead, inhaling sharply at the burst of pain that traveled through his hand. The bloody fingerprint he left on his temple went unnoticed by him, but not by Olivie.

?Monsieur, you are in need of care. Your hands-?

?There's no time for that,? Glenn said, sucking in another breath. ?I've still got to channel this mana into another spell, or it's gonna rip me apart. I need-I need your help. All of you. Can-can you help me??

?Oui, monsieur,? Oc?ane said. ?We are more, how you say...? Shocked, then 'urt-hurt.?

?We need to-? Glenn cut himself off and started to snap his fingers, but winced as pain lanced through his fingertips and spread throughout his arm. ?I'll bind myself to the building. What's the spell??

?What?? Giselle's jaw looked ready to fall off.

?What's the spell? If I try to cast something different from binding, it's probably not going to work.?

?Ah...? Olivie trailed off, reluctant at first, before she finally rattled off the spell in her native tongue. ?Me lient ? ce b?timent. Je vais le prot?ger, et il me prot?ge. Comme je le veux, il en sera ainsi.?*

Glenn repeated the spell in his head a couple of times, before he suddenly knelt and clapped his hands against the floor near the ring. Sharp pain stabbed his hands, and he could feel them slip on the floor, but he ignored both sensations and focused on slowly and deliberately repeating her words. When he was finished, he cried out, as the magic forcefully poured out of his body in streams of white-hot light. It formed into five tendrils that whipped at the air in the center of circle for a moment or two, before they suddenly shot towards their targets: the floor of the building, Glenn, and the three fairies. He wasn't quite sure what exactly happened to them, as the moment the mana returned to his body, his vision started clouding with grey-black spots, and, much in the way the light had blinded him before, he mercifully gave into the darkness threatening him.

*Bind me to this building. I will protect it, and it will protect me. As I will it, so it shall be.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-05-09 23:10 EST
?Well, here we are...trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.?
(Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five)

Glenn came to in an altogether different, yet all too familiar place. He was laying on his side, cold cobblestones pressed against his cheek, at the edge of the dim ring of light shining from a tall lamp standing in the center of a courtyard. Standing by the post was an average-sized man, wearing a tan bowler hat, an overcoat and trousers of the same color, worn black boots, and a gray bowtie. The brim of the hat hid his eyes, and his bushy white mustache hid much of his mouth. He leaned amiably over a wooden cane with a metal tip on the bottom, light brown gloved hands folded over the handle. Upon seeing Glenn stir to consciousness, the man made no attempt to help him, but did bow his head slightly to the carpenter.

? 'Tis good to see you once more Glenn, though...I am surprised to see you return. How long has it been??

?How...long?? Confused and disoriented, Glenn struggled to pull himself off the ground into a sitting position. After doing so, he took a closer look at his surroundings. He was in a square shaped area, surrounded by a gold-filigreed wrought iron fence. In one corner, across from him and on his left, sat a small table with a teapot, cups, and saucers neatly arranged. In the corner to his right was a small dresser, a short bookcase, and a night stand with a open book sitting on it. Diagonally across was a short icebox, made out of finely cut and stained oak. A few steps away from him was a stone bridge that seemed to abruptly end in mid-air. On the other two sides of the courtyard were gates, one leading to a narrow pathway and set of stairs up to a group of light beams a little taller than Glenn, the other to a courtyard much like the one Glenn was sitting in now, only empty.

?Yes. How long has it been, since we last saw each other?? The mustache seemed to twitch a bit, at the question.

?I...don't know?? The man's response to Glenn's puzzled half-reply, half-question was to chortle heartily.

?Neither do I, Glenn.?

?Why'm I here, Myrrin?? Glenn's inquiry prompted more laughter from Myrrin.

?The same reason you were here last time, I would imagine. Some mishap with chronomancy, I presume??

?No...I was in RhyDin, casting a binding a spell. It looks like it went wrong-? Glenn suddenly looked down at his hands, expecting to find the worst, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered they were wrapped up to the forearm in white linen bandages, and that there was only a dull ache of pain from them. His wide eyes danced over to Myrrin, who seemed to have something of a smile on his face, though it was hard to tell with most of his features hidden.

?I took the liberty of healing your hands, Glenn. I know you depend on them for your livelihood, and they were, quite frankly, a frightful mess. You should be right as rain in a day or two. Or so.? Myrrin scratched his forehead briefly, before placing his hand back on the cane.

?I-I need to go. They need me.? Glenn scrambled to his feet, looking towards the light pillars.

?Are you absolutely sure? You wouldn't like to see more of your past? Or your futures??

?I think...I've had enough of that. Send me back.?

?Oh,? Myrrin said, clearly sounding disappointed. ?Oh all right.? He lifted his cane up and pointed towards the pillars of light. With a *whoosh*, a new one rose up from beneath the cobblestones to join its brethren. ?I'll see you again??

?I don't know.? Glenn started to walk towards the gate, then stopped to look over his shoulder at Myrrin. ?Don't you know??

?I might know, and I might not. If I did know...I would be unable to tell you. You know how it goes. Space/time continuum, grandfather paradox, causality loop, et cetera et cetera. You understand, don't you??

?Yeah. Take care, Myrrin.? Glenn waved, then turned back around to open the gate and go up the stairs. Without waiting, he stepped into the beam of light that Myrrin had just created, and vanished.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-05-16 22:47 EST
The nexus, as it was wont to do in its cruel and capricious whims, saw fit to return Glenn to his shop from a height of about two feet, directly above one of his finely crafted dinner tables. He tried to put his hands down in time to catch himself, but was unable to, slamming chin first into the wood before rolling to the ground as the table toppled to the side.

?Monsieur!? Three high-pitched voices cried out, in surprise, joy, and concern, as Glenn lay motionless, eyes on the ceiling. Fluttering wings soon followed, as the faces of Olivie, Oc?ane, and Giselle hovered into view, close to his face.

?I'm-I'll be alright.? He pushed himself up, wincing in pain as he stood. His chin was already starting to bruise from where it had struck the table, and the bandages wrapped around his hands were slowly starting to turn red.

?You are!-Mon Dieu!? Giselle choked out, flying closer to Glenn's hands to examine them.

?The healer, you must go!? Oc?ane pulled at the collar of his shirt, attempting to convince him to leave. He just shook his head at her concern.

?I'm fine. See? I got bandages.? Though they were now tinted with blood, he did not seem to be in pain, and the red stain was creeping across the white linen at a pace that did not seem life-threatening.

?Where? Where from? Monsieur, you have been gone for three days!? Olivie wrung her hands as she peered at him with her deep blue eyes.

?Wait. Three days?? It was then that Glenn took a closer look at his store. Where the furniture had once been pushed back against the walls, it was now neatly arranged on the floor ? in fact, even neater than he had arranged it previously. There was no circle in chalk on the ground, nor were there any remaining fragments of the spell components there - or the smoking crater he half-expected to see. It was definitely his store, but enough was different that he knew they were telling the truth.

?Oui. The store, 'e was,? Giselle crossed her eyes and wriggled her nose as she struggled with the words. ?We 'ave been caring for 'im.?

?But...how'd you move everything??

?We paid some les terrestres to help us. That is...acceptable?? Olivie stopped wringing her hands, scratching the back of her head instead nervously.

?...That's good. Has business been well?? Seemingly suffering no further ill effects from his trip through the Nexus, Glenn started to wander through his shop, pausing briefly to heft up the table he had knocked over. After some grunting and exertion, he managed to right it. He felt a trio of tugs on his shirt, and he turned around to face the fairies.

?You cannot...be like this, monsieur!? Oc?ane squeaked. ?We were...? She flicked a gaze in Olivie's direction, looking for help.

?Worried sick,? she added helpfully.

?Yes, worried sick.? Oc?ane said with a shake of her head. ?You will not tell us where you have been? What happened??

?You know how the nexus works,? Glenn said, looking away from them. At that, Giselle gestured the other two women to fly away from him and huddle close, whispering and glancing over in his direction every few moments. He just shook his head and continued to tidy up his shop. After a minute or two of hushed conversation, the fairies split up and flew back towards him, as he was dusting the counter with the old cash register.

?We have decided...not to press you further on this,? Olivie announced. ?We are glad to see you back, and hope that whatever happened to you was not too horrible. If it was, we hope that you will share it with us someday.?

?It wasn't bad, just...personal?? Glenn looked up, then down, then shook his head yes. ?Yes, personal.?

?We can be accepting that,? Giselle said. ?But for now, bienvenue de retour.?

?Hmm??

?She is saying 'Welcome back,' ? Oc?ane quickly replied.

?Oh. Well, yes, it's good to be back. Thank you.? Glenn turned to go towards his work room, then wheeled back around to face them. ?Did the spell work??

?Like a charm,? Giselle said with a wink.

?Good. I'll be out in a while. Got a lot to catch up on.? With that, Glenn opened the door and headed back to work.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-05-22 11:01 EST
Over the next few weeks, Glenn settled back into a daily routine, although the presence of Olivie, Oc?ane, and Giselle had forced some operational changes. They had been quite eager to lend a hand with his store, and though they were unable to assist with all of the tasks required in running the shop (namely, moving furniture into and out of the store), they were more than happy to serve as sales associates, leaving Glenn to spend more time making furniture. It was an arrangement that quickly paid off, as sales had increased modestly since they started. Perhaps they were friendlier with the customers than Glenn had been, or perhaps the residents of the neighborhood were more comfortable dealing with the fairies than him. At any rate, the increase in sales was enough that he could afford to pay them a small stipend, although they had refused to accept the money at first. The ebb and flow of the old work day slowly but surely shifted to a new pattern, and everything seemed normal. Except...

Except he found himself feeling sick, every time he returned to his room in the Red Dragon Inn. It started out as homesickness, a longing in his mind that was easily explained away at first. His life in recent years had been transient, after all, shuttling from Blackbridge to RhyDin to Sygil, and then his unwanted trip through time. It would make sense that he missed home. Except that the longing soon turned to something solid: he missed his store. Not just the work he did there, or the cheerful presence of the fairies, but the building itself. While he slept, he dreamed constantly about the store, and when he was awake and not there, his thoughts often drifted towards it. On the rare weekends he wasn't working there, it progressed to physical illness: nausea, splitting headaches, fatigue so overwhelming he was barely able to drag himself out of bed to go to work the following Monday. When he'd set foot in the store again, the strange emotions and physical symptoms subsided, leaving him feeling both calm and confused.

That wasn't the only thing puzzling Glenn, though. Sometimes, while he was focused on hand-sanding legs for a rocking chair or touching up the shellac finish on an antique dresser, he found himself suppressing giggles that came out of nowhere. The first time it happened, he just shrugged it off as something strange within his subconscious. The second or third time it happened, though, he realized it was probably something else. The binding spell, he thought to himself one day, pausing in the middle of hammering a nail as the light bulb went on. More went wrong with it than the Nexus.

Despite his suspicions, Glenn said nothing to the women, nor did he bother to investigate further. He grinned and bore the occasional spontaneous bouts of laughter, the soft sighs of unearned contentment, and the yearnings for his store whenever he wasn't there. Unfortunately, a day soon came that made it impossible to ignore his ailment.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-05-29 10:27 EST
Glenn was sitting at his desk, crunching numbers for his newly complicated budget, when his vision was suddenly flooded with bursts of stars. Instinctively, his head snapped back and he lifted a hand to his temples, massaging them as sharp pain spread quickly throughout his skull. He blinked rapidly, trying to shake the snow out of his vision, when the pain suddenly vanished, replaced by stronger emotions. Fear. Panic. PANIC! Glenn ignored the slight queasiness that was bubbling up and burst through the door, sprinting through his shop towards the front entrance just as Olivie and Giselle flew through the fairy door. They were carrying Oc?ane, who was moaning and had a hand pressed to her head. His stomach churned with alarm as they flew closer to him.

?We need a healer!? Olivie cried out, as she and Giselle set Oc?ane down on one of the dining room tables near the front of the store.

?Wh-what happened?? Glenn asked, as a lump quickly rose in his throat.

?It is...she was not looking, and she flew into a cart!? Giselle's accent thickened with the worry she felt.

Glenn frowned slightly, as he leaned over the table to look at Oc?ane. She had stopped moaning, but the pressure she was applying to her forehead did little to stop the bleeding that made a red mask of the right side of her face. She'll need stitches, Glenn thought, turning to the other two. ?I'll be right back. Grab a clean cloth and keep it on her head. Don't move her again.? He didn't wait for their reply before sprinting out the door.

A block north, on the edge of where the Rue des Farfadets' neighborhood slowly blended into others, sat a small grouping of family businesses: a butcher with cuts of meat hanging in the windows, a florist with flowers on the windowsill, a candy shoppe with brightly colored decals of cartoon characters pasted on the windows. In contrast to his neighbors' prominent displays, the healer's place was muted. The front windows had white clapboard shutters and blinds that were nearly always pulled closed, and only a sign with a mortar and pestle and the helpful words ?Healer? and ?Heilari? beneath it indicated its purpose. Glenn burst inside, but before he could even get out a word, the receptionist gave him a quick once-over and responded.

?An emergency, yes?? Glenn, bent over and breathing heavily, just nodded his head slowly. ?I'll send him out.? She touched two fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes, concentrating intensely, then opened her eyes again and gestured toward a chair with the pen in her hand. ?He'll be just a moment. Have a seat?? In spite of his jangling nerves, Glenn did so, leg tapping restlessly against the floor.

***

Oc?ane winced as the last stitch was threaded and tied off, and Glenn winced with her, touching his head as well. The healer, a middle-aged human with unkempt white hair yellowing from the cigarettes he chain-smoked, took much longer to sew up her wound than normal because of the fairy's size. If that wasn't enough to make the task difficult, he also had to deal with Glenn mirroring every one of her gasps and squirms. It was distracting enough that the man banished the carpenter to wait outside, which made the suturing go faster but left Glenn even more of a nervous wreck. After he was finally allowed back in, and after the healer had finished with Oc?ane, he turned to Glenn, leaving the fairies to care for their own.

?Are you all right?? he asked, in a thin and crackly voice.

?Yes. Of course. Of course I'm alright. Of course.?

?No, I don't think so,? The man, who was halfway through the process of packing up his satchel full of herbs and other medical supplies, stopped and glanced over at Glenn, who tried to avoid the eye contact. ?You're not...afraid of blood are you? Or needles??

?No-yes.? Glenn immediately tried to cover for himself, but it was too late.

?Look...? The healer paused to cough into the sleeve of his robes. ?I don't handle anything with magic healing, but I've lived here my entire life, and I know when there's something strange going on, and I know that nine times out of ten, magic's involved. I would go see a magic healer, if I were you. I have a friend over in Seaside who can help you out, I have his card in here somewhere...? He set his bag down and started rummaging through it.

?No, that's alright. I'll-I've got one already. I'll go make an appointment with him tomorrow.?

Aware of the carpenter's dodge, the man sighed as he gathered up his things and retrieved a pre-hand-rolled cigarette and matches from his satchel. ?All right," he said, between teeth clenched around tobacco and paper. "Be careful. Kve?jum, sir.?

?Uh...yeah. You too.? Wound up by his own emotions and the emotions of the fairies, he retreated to his workshop to try and regain some focus. Once there, though, all he found himself capable of doing was staring at his tools, as if they were utterly alien and unfamiliar to his eyes.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-07-05 22:22 EST
The restaurant stank of lutefisk. The rank odor hung in the air, overripe fish and lye, overpowering the other meals being eaten by other restaurant patrons. Some of them were unable to tolerate the smell and left quickly, gagging and retching, while others attempted to eat their Swedish meatballs and smoked salmon, shooting dirty looks at the customer who had ordered the foul-smelling dish. The offending man paid no mind to the glares at first, but when they failed to cease staring, he smirked to himself. He turned his smirk on the other patrons, then shifted into a wide, toothy grin, clearly showing sets of fangs where his canines should have been. This scared some of the customers into eating their lingonberry jam and pork-filled dumplings, much faster than before, while others just looked puzzled, glancing back at the man's vampiric appearance and then out the window, where the sun was shining brightly. He kept the smile up for another beat or two, then speared a piece of the lutefisk and let the now-gelatinous fish slither down his throat, before smacking his lips loudly.

His attention quickly shifted from his meal and the other patrons though, when the front door of the restaurant banged open and shut. A towering, muscular man with a blonde mohawk, black leather jacket with a patch of a red inverted cross on the back, faded jeans, and scuffed brown work boots stepped inside. The ma?tre d?s dirty look instantly vanished when the biker scowled down at him, and he busied himself with arranging the silverware at an empty table while the larger man stomped through the restaurant, until he found the person he was looking for.

?What is that fuckin' smell?? he asked, wrinkling his nose as he approached the lutefisk eater's table. His voice was rough, ripped apart by years of smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey.

?What smell? I do not smell anything that smells like, ah, fornication?? Heavily accented Common stumbled on some of the words, but his smooth, even speaking tone was a direct contrast to the biker's, as was his clothing: a gray sack suit with a solid red tie and white dress shirt.

?Your food smells like shit.? The tall man thrust a grease and grime stained finger at the plate of half-finished fish.

?Now you are saying it is paska? You should not be insulting it until you have tried it, Toivo. Here, here, seat.?

Toivo sat down reluctantly, dragging the chair legs noisily across the floor. ?I ain't touchin' that, though, Rauss.?

?It is your lose. Now, tell me why you make such a big scene coming in??

?It's the guard. They're fuckin' with us. We can't deal the way we used to deal. And with the Bloody Wyverns movin' in...?

Rauss raised a hand, cutting Toivo off. ?Are you saying, this is something you are not handling? The guard is too hard for you??

?It ain't like the old days, man. They got more power, more people, more weapons. People don't just shut their doors and windows when you're beatin' some baker for protection money. We're gettin' squeezed on all sides.?

?And what am I to do? I am one man, you...are more.?

?I don't believe that,? Toivo said, laughing with a sneer. ?There's somethin' fucked about you.?

?Me?? Rauss set his fork down on the plate, rested his elbows on the table, and steepled his fingers. ?There is nothing of the sort with me. If you mean to be saying I am stronger than I look, then why am I pay the Blasphemers? My power is strictly in coins. And-? He tap-tapped his temples for emphasis. ?here.?

?Well, we're gettin' killed and arrested. We need help. So use your head or your money or whatever the fuck it is you do to get the guard and the Wyverns off our back. Got it??

Rauss unfolded his hands, leaned back in his seat, and let his gaze wander around the restaurant for a bit. People were watching, in that nervous way they do when they don't want the observed to know they're under surveillance: eyes flitting to the side, then back to the target. Rauss made eye contact with each of them, smiling a toothy smile, and their attention soon returned to their plates, or their dining partners. After that, he looked back at Toivo. ?I will handle it Toivo. Then will you do the job for which I am pay you?? Rauss took Toivo's grunt as an affirmative. ?Good. Now, leave me be. I am not finish with my dinner.?

?It still smells like shit.? Toivo said as he stood.

?Perhaps you would be liking to taste it and see if that is true?? Rauss stabbed some fish with a steak knife and held it up, twisting it this way and that.

?Fuck no, man. Just...keep that shit to yourself.? Toivo took a couple of steps backwards, and exited the restaurant as roughly as he had entered. Rauss spun the fish around in front of him a few more times, then burst into roaring laughter. This time, he didn't bother to look to see if anyone was staring.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-07-14 11:31 EST
It had taken some time, as well as trial and error, for Glenn to figure out how to protect himself from sensing the emotions of his fairy counterparts and feeling sick when he wasn't at the store. He hadn't studied empathic magic enough to know how to summon the sorts of shielding that would keep those feelings out, and staying away from the shop for extended periods of time just made him feel ill. The solution to his problem, as it turned out, was quite simple: he took a piece of the building with him.

More specifically, he placed one of the loose cinder blocks from the building's exterior in his knapsack and carried it with him wherever he went. He hadn't been entirely sure it was going to work, but somehow, it did. It wasn't enough to entirely eliminate the symptoms, and the added weight could be tiresome at times, but the benefits were well worth it. The symptoms of his illness diminished enough that he could leave the store alone for days at a time and only feel mildly queasy.

He reduced his hours and increased those of his three-fairy staff, giving them a pay raise at the same time. And then, he threw himself back into his magical studies and research, slipping into the comfortable grind of note-taking, paper-writing, and spell-practicing. It wasn't as personally fulfilling as wood-working all the time would have been, but the peace of mind he felt and the decrease in the severity of his ?homesickness? symptoms was worth sacrificing some of the satisfaction he felt with a hammer in his hands. The summer days soon became a hazy blur, until one day, the relative peace Glenn had found vanished in a burst of unexpected violence.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-07-28 11:34 EST
The metal door banged loudly against the frame, and the tall biker crouched slightly as he entered, even though there were still a few inches of clearance for his head. He looked nothing like the customers Glenn and the fairies usually saw: too tall, too bald, too tattooed, and he wore a rough and greasy pair of jeans and leather jacket emblazoned with insignia and logos from his gang. Still, Olivie smiled as she fluttered towards the front of the store to greet the potential customer.

?Good day, sir! Welcome to Woodwright Furnishings! How is it I may be helping you today??

?You Miss Woodwright?? the biker asked in a low rumble.

?I am not, but I can have him come out??

?You do that.? His smile was both lecherous and fierce, showcasing jagged, yellowed teeth. Olivie didn't notice, or pretended not to notice, and called back to Glenn.

?Monsieur! You have a customer!? The faint sounds of an electric saw died down, and Glenn soon stepped out of his back workroom onto the main floor of his shop, brushing sawdust off of his pants.

?How can I help you?? Glenn looked up at the much taller man, and stilled his nervous hands at his sides.

?Mister Woodwright??

?Yes, that's me.?

?I'm here with the Blasphemers.?

?Never heard of them.? At that, the biker snorted and peered down his nose at Glenn.

?You ain't from here, are you?? Before Glenn could reply to the question, the man continued. ?Well, I'll introduce myself. I'm J?rg. The Blasphemers are a neighborhood watch group. You pay us, and we watch your store.? J?rg took a step deeper inside, and Glenn took a step back, nearly stumbling on a chair he didn't see. After he caught himself, though, the carpenter stopped, stood his ground, and straightened up.

?And if I don't pay??

?I break shit.? J?rg smiled another toothy grin. ?I really wish you wouldn't, cuz I like doing that, but boss says if you pay, I gotta leave you alone. Until next month.?

The threat of violence prompted Glenn to spare a glance Olivie's way. Her head turned slightly in Glenn's direction, her jaw set firmly, as she nodded quickly and curtly. He then turned his attention back to J?rg.

?No. And you're not going to break anything. You're going to leave now.?

J?rg snorted again, barely containing his laughter. ?You gonna stop me? You and that flying human insect??

Olivie's wings fluttered rapidly, but she did not respond to the biker. Glenn, however, did.

?Yes. I'm guessing you're familiar with the farfadets??

?They don't work here. My boss said so.?

?I think,? Glenn said, as he held out his hand palm-up, summoning a small fireball that floated just above his fingertips. ?Your boss is wrong.?

J?rg cursed loudly, even as his eyes widened and eyebrows lifted in fear.

?You can be going now, Monsieur J?rg,? Olivie said, with a flippant wave of her hand. ?We will not be needing this protection.?

Nostrils flaring, J?rg grunted and turned around to go out the front door...

Only to have it slammed into his face by a muscular man with dragon wings tattooed on his bald skull, carrying a flintlock pistol. A second man, shorter and less muscled, but with the same tattoo and gun, followed in the first man's footsteps, kicking the staggering J?rg in the stomach and doubling him over. The second man pointed his gun at J?rg, while the first aimed at Glenn and Olivie.

?Some party, J?rg,? the second man said, almost purring the words. His w's were halfway between that consonant and a v. ?Why were the Wyverns not invited, hmm??

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2010-09-12 23:59 EST
The commotion in the front of the shop brought Giselle and Oc?ane out from the back.

?What is this noise you are making?? Giselle asked, nose wrinkling with annoyance.

?Run!? Glenn called out, as the man pointing the gun at him and Olivie trained it on the other two fairies and pulled back the hammer on his pistol. While the man's attention was on Giselle and Oc?ane, Glenn dashed forward and slammed his shoulder into the biker, sending him staggered back a few steps and causing him to shoot straight up into the ceiling. The biker watching J?rg swiftly pointed the gun at Glenn, who took a few steps backwards while rubbing his shoulder. He glanced behind him, looking for any sign of Giselle and Oc?ane. Nothing. Good, they escaped. Hopefully I can hold out long enough...

?You are a brave bug, Herr Carpenter,? the taller man said, as he reached into a pocket for ammunition for his pistol. ?But you must know that I am the boot that will smash you.? In response to that, Glenn just put up his forearm in a guard stance, eyes darting back and forth between his two foes, as well as the downed J?rg.

?I'm a bug with a really painful bite. I know magic, so you'd better leave me alone.?

?Magic?? The shorter biker burst into laughter that only momentarily stopped, when he wheeled back around to bash J?rg in the face as he attempted to crawl to the door. ?Can magic work faster than bullets, hmm?? Both men cocked their pistols and pointed them at Glenn.

?My friends already left, and they're going to come back soon with reinforcements. And you may be able to shoot me, but I doubt you can hit her.? He tipped his head toward Olivie, fluttering place with a determined stare. ?You'd be better off leaving, and letting us take care of J?rg.?

?I think...no. No last words.? Right before the two pistols belched smoke and roared their deafening roar, Glenn swore he heard a voice on a megaphone, outside the building. Before he could figure out what exactly it was saying ? or if there was even anyone out there saying anything - the guns had fired and something solid and white-hot struck him in the hip, sending him spinning to the ground with a crash he didn't hear.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2011-03-06 16:23 EST
The gun shot shattered Glenn?s world into its simplest elements. All he could taste and smell was rotten eggs, the stench of burnt black powder poisoning the air. The smoke nearly stopped his breath, nearly blinded him and covered the interior of his store in a stagnant gray fog. The periodic report of flintlock pistols, punctuated with the occasional boom of a blunderbuss, nearly deafened him. Someone was trying to talk to him, but it was so hard to listen, so hard to pay attention?

Focus! The pain was the sharpest, most primal element of his world right now. How would he describe it? Red-hot pokers stabbing him in the side? Poisoned needles jabbing his pelvis with indescribable pain? No, it wasn?t the worst pain he had felt. It was close enough, though, and he thought he could hear a moan trickle from his lips. Someone touched him, but the only sensation he could process was the pressure of a hand on his chest, pushing him gently back down. His eyes bounced down toward the hand, which was small but definitely human-sized, then traced their way up, past the wrist, forearm, and shoulder to their owner?s face. Olivie?s. ?Huh,? Glenn breathed out. Olivie?s lips were moving, but he couldn?t hear her right away with the ringing in his ears.

?Monsieur! Mon Dieu! Stay there! Things will be turning out all right. Oc?ane and Giselle will be here soon. You will be healed! Stay with me!?

?What?what?? Glenn tried to turn towards the front door, but another hand stopped him firmly but gently.

?Do not be concerned with?that. There is fighting, but she is not our concern. These voyous, they do not know anything but violence and blood and hate. Mademoiselle Laflamme, she will be here soon. She will save you, save me.?

?Well?good. Wake me when she?s here.? Shock had set in fully, and despite Olivie?s frantic shaking and cries to Glenn, the carpenter passed out soon after.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2011-03-09 19:48 EST
?Patient presents with severe pain, apparent fracture of the pelvis, and suspected Class II/III hemorrhaging. Recommend saline solution, possible blood transfusion. Recommend fentanyl patch.?
?

?Chante rossignol, chante
Toi qui as le c?ur gai
Tu as le c?ur ? rire
Moi je l'ai ? pleurer.?
?

?X-ray confirms compound fracture of ilium, pubis, and ischium. Patient in serious but stable condition.?
?

?Please, monsieur?please. Ne meurs pas!?
?

?Recommend patient be moved to ICU. Patient presents with chills, fever, and is minimally responsive to outside stimuli. Suspect septicemia from lead projectile embedded in left caput femoris or acetabulum. X-Rays have been unable to fully locate projectile. Will treat with intravenous antibiotics, schedule surgery for exploration and removal if condition improves.?
?

?No! ?e does not need d'un pr?tre. Get ?im the ?ell out of ?ere!?
?

?Glenn, I?m disappointed in you. You were too weak yet again. You could not save me, you could not save your friends, and you could not save yourself.
?I hate you, Glenny!?
?I want to love you Glenn, but you won?t let me in!?
?We hated you. That?s why we left you behind. To die.?
?

?Patient appears stable. Will continue to observe.?

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2011-03-19 21:13 EST
?Welcome back to the world of the living, Mister Woodwright.? Glenn?s eyes flickered open to the sight of a middle-aged man in a white labcoat peering over him. Instinct drove him to try and sit up, escape the unfamiliar room and unfamiliar situation, but the doctor firmly pressed a hand to his chest and gently drove him back into a supine position. ?You?ve given us all quite a scare. I would say you were this-? The man?s thumb and index finger were maybe an inch or two apart, and he stretched out the word before continuing, ?-close to shuffling off this mortal coil.?

?I?m?where??

?Redmond Clinic. You are very, very lucky to be here today, though we?re not out of the woods yet. We?re going to keep you here until the sepsis clears up fully, then we?re going to bring in a surgeon to examine your hip. We?ll have a few options there, depending on what we find. We may be able to put everything back together with pins and screws, or possibly plates. Or we may have to place a rod in your thighbone to put everything back in place. Regardless, you?re going to be in that thing-? he gestured towards the series of ropes and weights that had his left leg pulled up in traction. ?for the immediate future. Once we have the surgery, and once we figure out the best course of action for treating you, we?ll take it from there."

?How?long has it been?? Glenn?s voice seemed to catch on hooks in his throat, scraping against his tongue and teeth.

?A week now. You were essentially in a coma for two days, and today?s the first day since you were brought in that you?ve been this responsive.?

Glenn could barely move his head to nod, but he did so. ?I need?? Painkillers? The fairies? Revenge? The word stuck in his throat, and he forced it out with a cough. ??water. Please.?

?Oh, right, yes. See that beige box on the stand beside your bed?? Glenn turned his head towards it as directed. ?That device will contact the nurse on duty, if you need water, food, or assistance in using the lavatory. That smaller white box is your morphine drip. If the pain becomes too uncomfortable, pick it up and press the button. Be forewarned, though, that it will limit the doses you can self-administer. We don?t want you getting addicted to it, now.?

?I see?? Glenn reached for the remote and nearly fumbled it to the floor before gaining a firm grip on the signaling device. He pushed the button with an red exclamation point beside it, and set it back on the stand. Once more, it was time for him to wait.