I recall a crystal clear memory from last night. Gorm's bloody, fanged face spreads into a grin as he tests the durability of a wooden chair by vigorously slamming a face into it. The only thing that passed was the Canine Faunus's face through splintering wood and into the much sturdier floor. In that moment I could see a happy Half-Orc.

But the Gorm I'm disbelievingly staring at is ecstatic. Why are the corners of his mouth stretched from ear to torn ear? His breathing ragged and heart racing? I almost want to turn off my sensors because of how uncomfortable it's making me feel. But, I smile too, knowing that we're doing something my friend truly loves doing.

"All the eggs. No, almost all the eggs. How many eggs can you sell me? Do you have regulars who might want to buy them? What about the butter? The flour? The honey?" He turns away from the bewildered grey Gnomish vendor, grabbing me by the shoulder and shaking me unintentionally. His hands are trembling hard enough that it's rattling my teeth, "What's my budget?"

"Whu-whu-what do you need? Just ge-ge-get it…" I have to teleport out of his grasp, holding the sides of my head to stop the world from moving. I love how he's still considerate of others, but the vendor assures us that it's first come, first serve here and there's no regulars, just a constant stream of people due to the vicinity to Higo and the lake.

Embarrassed, I pony up a gold and ten silver for the sheer amount of groceries that Gorm is maniacally running off with. It's too early for this kind of thing, but I know the food reward is going to be well worth it. I look around at all the empty space where we were just given the whole baskets and boxes the items were being displayed in and I almost feel bad. The vendor, however, is delighted enough by his sales that he withdraws something from under blankets of canvas.

"For you, my friend. You buy much. Less worry to sell. This. This special." The short, grey Gnome is smiling up at me, his long ears pointing straight out to the sides.

He hands me the shoebox sized wooden crate filled with straw and ten mushrooms that look like they are made with glittering rainbow clay. The colors swirl through out the fist sized fungi.

I'm about to ask about them, when he interrupts me, "Very good. Very useful. Chemies like. Cooks like. Yours, my friend."

I try to pass him more money, but he insists that they are a gift. I push aside the notifications, already knowing what they're going to say, stow the crate, and reach in for a handshake.

"Ardacen Winters. Thank you."

"Gomer Clodfoot. Friend?"

I chuckle, "Friend indeed."

From a distance I see Mika leaving the Alchemy vendor's stall, looking a little disheveled. I rub my eyes until I see spots, hoping it helps erase the scenarios my runaway imagination comes up with. I spot a few familiar members of Linqs and ask them to round everyone up and to meet in the vardo.

Once outside I let out a deep breath, "Man, when is it going to rain?" I brush my Whisper Ear Cuff, "Victoria? Dawn? Is everyone ready to go?"

The voices sound like we're standing around in a circle as Dawn responds first, "We have some people coming back right now, but it looks like we're about ready to go."

Victoria asks, "Are you sure you don't mind staying inside to teach and craft?"

"Not at all," I answer, partially observing a tattered begger walking up the road towards the rest area as I make my way towards the parking area, "Too bad you can't teach them since you learned it from me. Are you and El going to be okay?"

"Come on, Winters. We survived without you for months. What's another hour or so?"

"You know I don't mean it like that!" I turn as the homeless guys passes by behind me, embarrassed that I shouted that so loudly, "I just--" Their giggling cuts me off.

"We know," Victoria sighs, "You're just too easy to tease." She steps out of the vardo, embracing me and trying to kiss me. I crane my head back and she looks startled. Her hands grasp my butt and a wicked grin slips across her face. I relent and we kiss.

Well, more like make out for a moment, before she releases me and heads for the driver's seat. I activate my Reach and swipe at the air, watching a ghostly yellow hand smack Victoria's butt and suprising her. She looks back, confused by the distance between us and stares at me until she realizes how I did it.

"For good luck?" She sends me a coy smile over her shoulder.

I grin back at her, "For good luck!" I climb inside the magical space and we take off down the road.

*************************

Gomer Clodfoot just had a fantastic start to his day in the General Store. He sold more in ten minutes than he did in the previous week! Not only that, but last night someone bought the whole bar a round of drinks after a spectacular brawl! This much excitement didn't happen every day, week, or even month!

Of course, his limited speech narrowed his thoughts to, "Good time! Yes!" His pointy Gnome ears wiggled about as he danced to a merry tune in his heart.

As he was finally putting away the shiny gold coin he was admiring, he noticed a smell unlike anything he's smelled before. A putrid smell of a carcass left out in the sun too long maybe? His sensitive nose wrinkled as he looked about for the source of this offending odor. Then, he spotted a new face in the store.

The man's hair and beard grew to socially unacceptable lengths. Dwarves and even some humans grew beards, but this person probably never heard of the practice of grooming. He looked as though he had rolled down a mountain side, landed in a muddy ditch, and slept there for several years. Gomer stopped dancing when he approached the stall.

The man's half closed eyes, swept across the leftover goods, grabbed a dirt dripping potato, and took a bite like it was an apple.

”Hey! Pay first! No pay, no eat!" Gomer yelled irritatedly, trying to shoo the shabby beggar away. He paid him no mind and continued to browse the goods as Gomer grabbed his money box and searched for a guard.

A moment later a familiar looking bunch of armored men all wearing leather and iron armor with matching emblems in random places appeared around the beggar, except this time they were all well armed with swords and crossbows. Once again, the stranger paid them no mind as he grabbed a head of lettuce, chomping down on it like a man who knew what hunger was, but had never seen food.

One of the guards stepped forward, grabbing the beggar by the shoulder and causing him to drop the armful of produce, "That's enough. You got money or not, thief?"

"Thief…?" the man whispered in a ragged voice as if contemplating the word.

"Thief…" His beady eyes and hands swept about, searching frantically for something on his person. Everyone around him checked the faces of the others hoping to find instruction, having never experienced something like this before.

The vagabond's hand finds a ring on his finger and withdraws a long guitar from it. The wide and deep body was made of a dark wood decorated with intricate mithril accents. The metal strings began to glow blue as the guards stepped forward, raising their weapons. A wave of magic coursed through everyone as he strummed the strings. The man hunched over the guitar and a deep, raspy voice echoed out from the beard.

"There must be some kind of way out of here," he bellowed, the power paralyzed everyone in the building, freezing them in place. He flew effortlesly between chords and picking, the volume of the guitar slowly getting more and more intense.

"Said the joker to the thief."

People started dropping to their knees, finally free, but unable to do anything but cover their ears in the hopes that it would lessen the noise. The stranger ambled his way over to one of the guards who was doubled over on his elbows and knees, sitting on the guard's back, "There's too much confusion I… can't… get no relief…"

The noise became unbearable, peoples faces were screwed in agony, blood starting to trickle out of their ears and pouring down like tears along their noses. One by one, the scrunched up bodies slackened suddenly into corpses laying flat on the floor, the sound of the guitar unaffecting the apparent Bard as he continued to play to himself.

As suddenly as it began, the guitar came to an abrupt end. The lone man trailed off into gibberish, staring off into the distance, as if forgetting the words to the song he was singing. He looked up at the ceiling. The building was silent except for the weather that had finally broken. The rain hitting the roof sounded like applause and he stood up with his arms outstretched, the guitar hitting the floor with a discordant GLANK. He closed his eyes, mouth slightly open as he welcomed the sound the rain made.

A slow, rythmic clap barely tugged at the Bard's attention and he casually looked over at an amused Halfling. He was dressed in all white matching the book he had in a holster at his hip.

"Beautiful! Beautiful. Do you mind?" He asked as he gestured to the bodies using his black and bony arm. The Bard simply stared at him and moved back over to the produce.

"I'll take that as a 'Not at all, my friend! Please help yourself!'" He opened his book and effortlessly found the page he wanted.

"Conscript the Dead!"

Magic circles appeared below everyone that had fallen. Clothes and flesh ripped apart as the bodies' skeletons emerged like butterflies tearing out of their cocoons.

"Wonderful! They even come with their own toys!" The guard skeletons equipped any usuable armor and weapons and stood at attention before the Halfling. He approached the Bard and asked for his name, getting nothing in reply, "I'm Dez Driftwood, Harold of Nyctos, Slayer of Travelers, General of the Dead. Don't mind me if I ramble on, though."

He points a thumb at the skeleton hoard behind him, "They only lend me an ear if it's fresh off of a hhhead." He stressed the H, draggin it for an extra second.

The Bard manages a grunt while biting into another potato. "What was that?" Dez asked, bringing a hand to his ear and leaning closer to the man's face.

"Angus…"

"Oh? So you do have a name? Well, Angus, I can see you and I were made from the same bowl of clay and now the gods have brought us back together so we can entertain them. So now the show must go on, yes?"

Angus continues to eat the raw food, much to the disgust of Dez.

"Hm. Care to join us then? Maybe we can find you something better to eat in the tavern next door?" Angus's head perks up, bringing a grim smile to the Halfling's face.

"Splendid!"

*****

"Splendid!" I exclaim as the last of our militia learns the Survival skill. We're in the Crafting Corner, getting part one of their upgrades going. We have to force Gorm to stop by, though obviously he's in a hurry to return to the kitchen. After obtaining the new skill he tosses a piece of food at me which I catch in my mouth.

The flavor is intense, almost blinding me with how hot, spicy, salty, fatty, and complex it is. I shake the stars out of my eyes, "What was that?"

He leans in to whisper, "Pan Fried Harpy..." and takes off with a deep, giggle.

I wince at the thought of eating the flying beasts with human faces, but the deliciousness of the meat is overpowering and I shrug my shoulders.

"It's not a person. It's not a person. It's not a person," I repeat in my head over and over, enjoying the food that finally resembled something like fried chicken.

I hand out the Amulets of Holding to each of soldiers, asking Reiger to bring Gorm's up to him. They are fantastic little kits and I remind them that there should still be enough room to customize them and to feel free to do so as long as they give us some feedback so we can improve them. Also, we'd be giving them a new set of armor and weapons later on. I send them on their way for now, checking the contents of one of the Amulets.

[1*Medium Health Potion, 3*Minor Health Potion, 2*Minor Mana Potion, 2*Minor Stamina Potion, 2*Waterskin, 3*Better Ration, 1*Simple Iron Handaxe, 1*Simple Iron Dagger, 3*Firewood Log, 1*Special Tailor Kit]

I figure they can use the handaxe and dagger specifically for working, the logs in case it's wet out and they can't find anything to light, and the Special Tailor Kit for all kinds of field repairs and improvisational needs. They consists of two needles, a spool of regular thread, and a three foot by three foot piece of canvas. The needles and thread being part of the wish list that I gave Richter and Rachel when they went back to Kes Rentas.

"Ready, Ardy?" Dawn asks, bringing up all the screens after setting the bags down between her forge area and my makeshift workbench. I step up to my spot and nod my head.

"Then let's get to it!"