Julia Sarcos

It was a great relief to Julia when she was able to check off the last person to get their cores. Surprisingly, it had been the council members who had dragged their feet on collecting a share. She had been forced to hunt them down through the burgeoning party. Clarissa had to be pulled by the ear to come get her share. Her frustration had been quite visible by the time she found Malachi to grab what was left. Their leader had taken one look at the sharp eyes and pouted before quickly following instructions. It was a relief to be finished, but the sense of satisfaction of a job well done was eclipsed by party inspired fear.

The shieldmaiden clenched her notebook to her chest protectively. Whether to protect it or herself from the crowds was unclear. Even to her. When the mantle of duty had run out, her anxiety of being around people returned. Without a task, a purpose, it was almost unbearable to be near so many different faces.

She had tried to excuse herself on the fact that nine in the morning was too early for alcohol. Malachi hadn’t even batted an eye before laughing that effort away. “Come on Julia,” smiled the bearded man with a sweet smile. “It’s a celebration! A holiday even! Don’t you drink earlier on those kinds of days? Like Fourth of July and such? Hell, not like we have day jobs anymore!”

“Well yes… I would day-drink then… with friends,” answered Julia. “Just feels weird, you know? We’re stuck in a dungeon and now we’re throwing a party... complete with alcohol.”

“Sometimes, the darkest times are when you need to smile most,” said Malachi softly and distant. He brightened and added, “We deserve a little fun, right?”

There wasn’t any more inclination to argue further in the light of that smile. Before Julia knew it, her crush… no leader had put a cup of Ambrosia punch in her hands. Hesitantly, she took a sip, mostly to be polite. It was amazing. Blowing away all expectations. A taste that was somehow felt from the tongue to the toes. At first there was a syrupy impression of honey. Warm and spreading. Next came a punch of fruit, a spectrum of flavors that seemed unable to pick any one thing. It ended with a coolness like mint that was a welcome reprieve from the sudden burst of flavors.

Julia was frozen with the cup tilted to her mouth. Suspended in the exhilaration of that flavor. It shifted over her tongue like the waves of the ocean. Her arm trembled with the competing needs to drink it all or preserve every moment of taste as long as possible.

“Aptly named isn’t it?” grinned Malachi. “Flavor of the gods!”

The trance broke and she was in control of herself again. It was stunning how strong the effect of the punch was. Julia almost tossed the drink away like a cursed doll that spoke. But, the punch couldn’t be wasted. To blame the drink was to deny her own traitorous sweet tooth. Now mentally prepared this time and she risked tasting again. It poured over the tongue like matured mead this time. Honey and clover at the forefront. The charge of fruit came after, this time in a completely new chaotic order. A cool wave brings it all to a perfect ending.

“This has to be magical,” whispered Julia, breathless. “I can’t believe something like this could be made by earthly means.”

“I agree with you,” replied Malachi. “This is divine. I drank something similar before. A little Chinese place at the bottom of Virginia… in a town only remarkable by what it once was... They had a punch that would shift its flavor at every mouthful... So sugary and refreshing. I miss it. The ambrosia punch reminds me of how it tastes in my dreams.”

“Is… is Virginia where you are from?” asked Julia

The bearded man paused longer than seemed normal to answer such a simple question. Hesitantly, and sounding unsure, he answered, “Mmm, I suppose it makes as much sense to say that as anywhere. See, I moved around a lot in my life. My first memory was of moving and my last before The Pit was planning another.”

“What kind of job did you have?” probed Julia. “Were you in the army?” In her head, it made sense that their leader would have been. She could see the calm that he led them with being cultivated on the battlefield.

“Mmm, no, no, my dad was though,” responded Malachi, sounding distracted by reflection. “His job moved us around so that's probably why I gained the habit. To shift to somewhere new after too long. The closest I got to any of the armed forces was the boy scouts.”

“Then, what kind of work did you do?” pushed Julia. The shieldmaiden wanted to understand this man. To know where Malachi had come from to stand as he did before her. “Moving about... seems like that would take a good amount of money.”

With a shrug, Malachi said, “Different jobs. White-collar, blue-collar, and retail to service. Whatever was available, or struck my fancy at the time. Once I was a bartender in Morocco for six months. Money didn’t play as much of a factor as you’d think. Well, as long as you weren’t too choosey about where or how you went.”

“That sounds… nerve wracking… I never really left my city,” reflected Julia. “I did trips to different places of course, but moving for me was only changing apartments.”

“I got involved in a lot of the world,” stated Malachi. “You know, seeing how people vary and stay the same. As I got older, staying put was looking better and better. Now, I’m here, so I guess I don’t have to make that choice anymore… Anyways, what about you? I overheard that you're an artist?”

“O! Umm… yeah!” blurted out Julia flustered at the sudden change in subject. Though, she was pleased that Malachi would ask about her. The words were hard to find, but once she started everything came out faster and faster. “It wasn’t really something I meant to do, per se. I mean, I was majoring in pre-law, but I always loved doing art… painting mostly. I started doing, well um a series of paintings where I imagined how distorted a landscape would look if something like a fourth-dimensional object entered our reality. Bringing surrealism to realism, sort of. Someone once told me, “You paint like Thomas Cole if he dropped a lot of acid as he painted.” Then asked me if I had any on me… I don’t know how I feel about the suggestion that LSD was involved, but the Thomas Cole part was a nice complement…” Julia drifted off as realized she had ranted a bit. Darted a nervous look, the shieldmaiden checked to see if he was still listening.

To her complete surprise, the bearded man seemed just puzzled that she had stopped talking. “Soo... “ he asked, “I’m guessing that they were well received?”

“Ahh, yeah, my teacher loved my first piece,” explained Julia. “Encouraged me to do a few more and put them up in the local gallery. That went well, so bigger galleries asked for me to do shows and then people started to buy pieces from me. Honestly, it happened so quickly. Those first paintings were almost just a goof, you know? Like I worked really hard on them, but the concept was something that amused me. I say fourth dimensional objects because that's easier to sell... and well it sounds trendy. For me, I was seeing Lovecraftian creatures trying to push through into our reality. Or just my nightmares wanting to become real... Ahh… that sort of thing, but people still liked them. I finished my bachelor's degree and then made a career out of my paintings. After a while, there was a need for new inspirations. I started traveling around to look for new landscapes to use. I was just starting to use cities when I woke up here. I joked they would call it my building period.”

“Sounds interesting to me, but I can't say if I am seeing in my head right,” said Malachi thoughtfully. “Wish I could see one for myself.”

“I’ll… um have to paint a new one to show you,” blushed Julia.

“That sounds wonderful,” beamed Malachi.

Molly St. Clair

Parties were unsettling for Molly. There was too much chaos for her methodical nature. To be put simply… I am bad at talking to people without an official reason, she grimaced in thought. She had tried setting out a plan to enjoy a party, but that turned out terribly. In her experience, even battleplans held up better on first contact than social plans.

Molly decided to try the punches to settle her anxiety and keep her from fleeing. It may be uncomfortable for her, but social gatherings were ripe for dynamic social changes. She couldn’t afford to miss anything for her calculations. Suffering the party was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Plus, who doesn’t love cookies? Molly asked herself. This is my first chance to try anything other than rations and water.

The first punch the cool-eyed woman tried was Ambrosia, as it was the most popular. It was an experience, but too sugary for her tastes. Next was the Melon, a subtle favor that she couldn’t quite pinpoint the melon used. Which may just be a pointless endeavor anyways, thought Molly. We have no idea of the spectrum of fruits available here, much less what kind of melons would exist in a magical world. Melon was a refreshing flavor, but didn’t stand out to her. The last flavor turned out to be more her style. The Citrus leaned heavily in the direction of lemon and lime with a licorice aftertaste. It reminded her of an Absinthe based drinks she liked.

She filled her cup with Citrus and sighed with pleasure. Molly quickly scoped the area out for a place to people watch. A place that would give access to all of the angles. Tucked away, on the outskirts, she watched. Malachi and Julia falling deeper into a private conversation. Clarissa challenging a random group to a drinking game after shamelessly beating another already. Soren regaled listeners about his struggles with the Ratsins, a cocksure smile, and a finger gun. All smiles and pride, Vincent glided through the party discussing fighting with the raiders or asking after the training of those that stayed. Several people listened intently as Harken preached of the infested tunnels and upwards victories. Damian sat in conversation with several acolytes, apparently speaking about magical theory. She was tempted to join the last to offer her own insight and to gain any new perspectives.

Before she could move, there was Warner. A strange man with a peculiar hold over her. He wasn’t taller than Malachi, but somehow stood over the crowd. Nor was he as wide as Zachariah even though he walked larger than life. Those shoulders made the patter of her heart speed up and it disrupted her neutrality. As the big man gave her a shit eating grin, Molly felt the blush rise as she cursed him inside, Though thankfully his arrogance makes him stumble enough to remind me to stay partial.

“Hello, Molly,” greeted the brawler.

“Warner,” she said with a nod.

“What drink did you end up with?” opened Warner with his grin. “I went with the Melon punch.”

Put off guard by the small talk, Molly responded, “I found the Citrus to fulfill my needs.”

“I tried it, but that was a little too much like gin and tonic for me,” explained Warner. “A little floofy for me. Now, the Melon, it reminds me of the moonshine I’d get from my “uncles” in the mountains. Delicious, but not sure what the flavor really is. Or at least that’s my experience with the real stuff.”

“Ah, I haven’t had moonshine before, but I do enjoy gin and tonic,” offered Molly steadily though unsure what else to say. A silence fell between them.

To end the awkward pause, Warner asked, “So, enjoying the party all the way over here?”

Frowning, cool eyed woman answered, “I am not overly fond of large groups.”

He went quiet for a moment as if to actually think before speaking. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me about ya. I never really had much trouble with crowds. Maybe cause I was almost always big? Y’know, able to see where I was in the sea of people?”

“Perhaps,” said Molly, considering. “For me, I believe my discomfort comes from too much stimulus. I get overwhelmed trying to see everything… to catalogue all the emotions around me. Standing to the side here, I feel more able to observe. Not trapped in the sea.”

“Huh, I think I get that,” drawled Warner. “I suppose, I’m careless in my observations. Tunnel vision is sorta a flaw of mine.”

A neat smile sprouted on Molly’s as she replied, “I noticed.”

“Uh, yeah,” shrugged Warner, awkwardly. “It’s funny how something you thought you were over keeps coming back… Maybe coming to The Pit has jumbled me up some. You probably guessed with your smarts, but I was a cop once. Had a sergeant that I thought the world of, beat that tunnel vision shit out of me. Made me see the bigger picture, y’ know? Not literally beat me mind ya... though it was seeing him beat someone that made me leave the force.”

“You left the force over that?” probed Molly. For the moment, the two halves of her this man made by his presence were both focused on the precious knowledge Warner was spilling. I must encourage him to keep talking, she thought. Then in quick succession, she thought two desires, So I can know him better for the calculations and So I can get closer to him.

Warner flinched and turned to her. His eyes were quaking with emotion as Warner began to speak. He spoke as one unsure why they were releasing this locked box from their heart. Molly wasn’t sure either, people found her cold and rarely indulged her listening ear. Her knowledge came from observation. Yet, here was a miracle, a closed off man was giving her deeper insight.

“How could I stay? Nothing happened to him... and I gave all the evidence to the right people. All they needed… but I didn’t leave right away. My disgust for them was high and I couldn’t just quit. To just let go. No, I wanted justice… I wanted vengeance. I joined because I wanted to stop the bullies of the world, not work with them. There were good people, but not enough. So I dug in, acted like the whippin’ boy seekin’ some kind of redemption. Made connections with the good people in power and gained blackmail on the bad ones. Then, I left.

“With the right strings to pull, I set myself up as a private eye. Did the low jobs for the money, but I weaseled my way into the high profile jobs wherever I could. Made more connections and gathered more blackmail. Then, I started putting pressure to clean house. Cops and politicians. They fell to me. Sometimes, where I could risk it, the media knew it was me to pull the lever. Most of the time, I stayed the ghost in it all. That’s why I give Malachi such a hard time, I think. I’ve seen too many dirty leaders. Not sure I can trust anyone else to take the lead, to become used to their power… that's a whole other thing… and I don’t want to talk it out...

“Anyways... before The Pit I was about to start running for office. I had gone as far as I could on the outside. It was time to launch a new kind of campaign. Waking here, it was kinda a relief. You work on something twenty years and you realize, you’re maybe, at most, only halfway... I, I just unloaded a whole lot on your plate…I haven’t ever told anyone that...” Warner looked warily at her and then suspiciously at his drink. “Yeah, um that’s the dark crusade of my life…”

“That sounds like quite the burden to live under,” began Molly very carefully. She felt giggy and terrified beneath her melting mask of ice. “Was it worth it?”

“O’ yes,” smiled Warner. “I saw a lot of dirty people ruined, if not jailed.”

“Good, good,” nodded Molly, her voice light. A bright, eager smile bloomed. “Will you tell me of the bright days of your life?” A warmth stung her cheeks and the two halves of her sang in unity.

Warner basked in that smile with his own small one. Surprisingly humble. “Shit, smile like that and I’ll tell ya anything, everything.”

Vincent Salvador

The swordsman looked around the party and smiled. He thought the notion of a party silly. Frankly, a waste of time. They were trapped, who knows how far underground with monsters. Was there anything to really celebrate? Looking at the Sixty, he understood now why Malachi made the move. There was a looseness and cheer in everyone he had never seen. This was the first time in days they had to be relaxed, and maybe, just maybe, forget they were trapped.

At first, he had tried to make productive use of the gathering. Vincent sought out his students to discuss their progress. A few had been willing, but most had begged off for another time. It was frustrating before he realized that it was a hard sell against a good time. The decision to relent and enjoy the party was the only good choice. All the good vibes before him made training alone an unappealing though.

Vincent claimed a spot on the couch and enjoyed the company. Conversations came and went as people came by. His part in the Sixty as their martial trainer had lent him a popularity to enjoy. It was interesting to be around so many people that truly valued his instructions. He had taught many people in the past, but this level of warmth was new. His former students had largely been thankful, but only in the brief. Their need for the sword had after all been limited. Therefore, their gratitude was slight too. Here, in The Pit, the sword was valued highly and so was he.

The swordsman grinned and enjoyed the appreciation. I am often reminded how good it is to be here, considered Vincent as he enjoyed the Melon punch. There is nowhere better that I would rather be. This is a wondrous place.