Bob

The great hall stood, empty, save for two brothers. But even alone, there was decorum to observe. In this instance, the hall was a place of hushed reverence. The walls were adorned with paintings of past clan matriarchs and lit candles blazed, undisturbed until the next time an attendant replaced them. Because this was a place where no exuberance was allowed it remained empty, but also served as a good spot to have uninterrupted meetings.

The two brothers stared at each other from across the great hall with fraternal contempt that was the product of years of intentionally annoying each other with both word and deed. Many a conversation between the two were peaceful and dedicated to problem-solving, gossip, or to quench boredom, but inevitably one or both would take whatever passing opportunity to antagonize the other. Such behavior persisted to the present, despite adulthood having been upon the duo for a few years.

The two had lived in the twilightlands their whole lives--or at least from infancy; they had the sneaking suspicion they had been taken from their birth mothers, whether it was by rite of (dis)courtesy or deal struck. This suspicion arose from the undeniable fact that one brother was a dekapri and the other brother was a minotaur. Tim was the dekapri, a mortal with a little bit of infernal ancestry that gave him a very satyr-like appearance, though much less hairy. His horns were short, black spirals, and his goat-like hooves an equal shade of midnight. He dressed in black robes that starkly contrasted his burnt-orange skin.

Bob, on the other hand, was a black-furred minotaur with long, wideset horns. Even among minotaurs, Bob was large, staggeringly muscular, though not particularly tall, giving Bob almost cartoonishly square proportioning between his height and width, shaped like a triangle with legs as he was. Those who knew Bob, though, knew that his strength was not what made him particularly dangerous. He wore some loose red trousers and a white V-neck shirt that was a little tight on him.

"Do you have it?" Bob asked Tim, anxiously, from across the empty great hall, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I may or may not, but the question is," Tim responded almost lazily, "'what are you going to give me in exchange for it if I do have it?'"

Bob gnashed his teeth. "You would extort me? Over this? It was my idea!"

"Yes, but I'm the one who actually went to the trouble of getting it. do you think that sneaking to her nightstand was easy? I'm no rogue, nor am I trained in any of the criminal arts. I think I'm entitled to use it, wouldn't you say?"

"No, I wouldn't say that because we agree that it was my idea and a good one. Besides, we agreed that we would both use it!"

"Yeah, but I got to thinking, if we're both gone, she'll come after us. Something something 'too much chaos', something something, 'causing improper imbalances on the mortal world. If one of us stays, she's less likely to do anything about it, and as the one who risked my neck to get this, I volunteer you to stay."

"You dirty little runt!"

"That is, unless you can make it worth my while. What can you give me?"

"I can give you a knuckle sandwich!" The minotaur suddenly yelled, foregoing the propriety of the hall and dashing forward, knocking aside benches as he charged. Tim, though a little surprised that Bob was angry enough to break the great hall's rules of decorum, nevertheless had enough space to work with.

To Tim, magic came naturally to him, and if magic was a sport, Tim would be a natural athlete. The dekapri expended a bit of magic and turned invisible. The minotaur, already three-quarters of the way over to him, saw this and swept his horns back and forth so he would have a better chance of catching his brother.

Tim waited for the minotaur to get close, and ducked under Bob's left side has his horns swung right. Not sparing a moment to gloat, Tim took off running to one of the hall's exits, but Bob, true to form, did something unorthodox: he started picking up benches and hurdling them, rapid-fire, towards the clip-clop sounds of Tim's hooves. Two benches hurdled past Tim, splintering on the stone floor, but the third one caught Tim in the shoulder. The pain was distracting enough that Tim was forced to let go of the spell as he fell to the floor.

Bob grinned triumphantly and strode over to to his brother, picking up another bench, just in case the dekapri tried another spell. Tim seemed to get the message and held his hands up.

"Alright, alright, you got me. We'll work this out! I won't be--" and then Tim stopped talking and paled, looking past Bob. The minotaur followed his gaze and saw a dionian corpse making its way through the opposite entrance, hunching over so its large frame could fit through the door. Bob's breath caught in his throat.

The dionian corpse was huge. The smell of rotting vegetation filled the hall as the thing shambled in. Green vines, bruised purple and wilted, curled and uncurled angrily as it hung onto the frame of a cyclops skeleton that the undead plant both trellised and piloted. Peeking through the single eye socket was a bud that flowered into teeth that gnashed in unsatiable hunger and the general crankiness that the hunger beget. It made no sound besides a creaking that was reminiscent of tired leather stretched too tight. Bob had broken the decorum of this place, and the undead monstrosity was sent to make once again silent the hall that demanded reverence.

"Shit, shit!" Forgetting all brotherly squabbles, Bob urged his brother, "Get up, let's go! If she hears about this, she's going to kill us." Tim was up in a flash and as he fled out the door with his brother.

"Yeah, if that thing doesn't kill us first!" Tim called as they sprinted outside where the sunset gave everything a pink and orange tinge. The area outside the hall was the grounds of their family estate, a cluster of buildings separated by walkways and surrounded by fields of purple-ish grass that waved even when the wind didn't blow. The duo weaved through the buildings and didn't stop until they reached the far side of the estate, reasonably sure that the undead wouldn't pursue them that far since it didn't have them in its sights anymore.

Tim collapsed on the ground, panting and Bob just watched him for a moment, giving him a look that communicated his disapproval at his brother's poor stamina. He then reached out and grabbed Tim by his robes, hauled him up, and socked him in the stomach--not hard, hard, but enough to convey his annoyance with him. Tim doubled over and then recovered almost as quickly, trying to save as much face as possible.

"You know," Tim said, still trying to catch his breath, "this still doesn't help you." Tim withdrew a silver wand from his pocket.

"The family portal?" Bob asked. "I wondered what method you were going to use. I just didn't think you were going to risk pilfering that as well."

"Well, I'm not exactly going to go to the end of the world and hop off, now am I? Nor did I want to make any unnecessary deals to bypass border patrol." Tim flicked the wand and an invisible door opened, waiting for someone to step out into the forest on the other side of the door.

"Tim! Bob!"

The two brothers jumped and then cowered in fear. The words echoed across the estate, though were as loud as if she had yelled in their ears. Ominous pink clouds formed overhead and thunder rumbled. Their mother had found out about something. Perhaps it was the incident in the great hall. Likely she was just made aware of the portal opening. But if she had found out about the theft, then they would both get thrashed for sure.

"Whelp, it's been fun," Tim said meekly, "but you keep mother company, okay?" Bob felt his mother's presence increasing--she was about to fade-step to their location any second.

"I won't have to." Bob replied as he revealed a coin that he was holding in his hand--a coin that changed images on its sides whenever it was flipped. Tim's mouth fell open and he felt his pockets. The minotaur had managed to pickpocket him at some point! But without giving Tim any chance to react, Bob decked his brother, picked up the wand, and stepped through the portal. Once on the other side, he called back to Tim.

"Keep your mouth shut and I'll switch back with you at a future time. Maybe once I slay a dragon or something! Hah!" He flicked the wand, signaling the portal to close and tossing the wand through the door just before it shut; it was useless to him on this side of the portal, but mainly, he wanted his brother to be caught with the wand when their mother showed up.

The door sealed shut without a sound, excepting his brother's outraged protest. Tim would be alright. Well, provided he was gone before his mother appeared. Bob looked around at the pine forest he was in. Green needles, brown-grey bark, brown grass-covered ground; a picturesque vision of northern nature surrounded him. However, as he looked around, he couldn't help but feel like the whole world was... muted. The colors of his surroundings just didn't have the life and motion of his home realm. Technically, being a minotaur, he supposed either he or his lineage had to have been from this realm at some point, but to him it just seemed alien. Bob took a step backwards: it had just occurred to him that he was in the wilderness of a different realm without any weapons, provisions, or other necessary things along that line. He scratched the base of his horns and summarily dismissed his fears upon taking another look around. He had his fists, which could probably handle local wildlife, and all trees made fruit, so he would have food. In fact, he saw fruit laying all around him. They looked brown and a bit spiky, but for sure they dropped from trees, just like all other fruit. He'd be fine. What he needed to focus on right now was the coin.

He took a look at the coin he had purloined and flipped it over a few times. Wasn't this thing supposed to chime like a bell or buzz like a bee? Something like that. He knew he heard his mother say something to that effect. Bob stared at the coin for a minute. Then he poked the coin. The minotaur squinted at it, listening for any sounds. Nothing. He brought the coin up to his mouth and exhaled, fogging the coin up, then rubbing it clean on his shirt. Nothing. He then screamed at it. He yelled and hollered at the coin for a minute or two, and when the coin still did nothing, he threw it on the ground and started stamping on it with his hooves. He hadn't been doing it for more than a few seconds before he felt a sharp, burning sensation on his right arm. He turned to his arm and looked on the inside of his forearm to fine the words "Fine! There! Have fun." written as if it had been branded onto him. Then another sharp, burning pain on his palm occurred and he watched an imprint of a coin seared itself onto his hand, the face of the coin being... the back of a hand bearing an upraised middle finger. Bob reached down and picked up the coin to take a look at it. In place of the different creatures that were originally on the many sides of the coin, there was instead a matching image of the rude gesture on both sides of the coin. It seemed he had irked the maker of this coin. It was...someone... named... ah... Bob scratched his head. He couldn't remember. He just remembered his mother describing the owner of the coin as low-key. Judging from the reaction, the owner seemed alright. Maybe not as low-key as Bob would have preferred, but he couldn't exactly complain, as he could now hear the ringing. Bob turned to where the ringing was the loudest and walked forwards.

***

Bob was getting close, he knew. The ringing was loud. He was quite enjoying the sensation; in fact, as he found out, if he put the coin on the bridge of his snout, his entire skull would vibrate very satisfactorily with the ringing. All in all, Bob was rather enjoying himself. He had an armful of the spikey, conical fruit that dropped from the needle trees and he was happily crunching on his fourth fruit. It was really quite dry, but the spikes made it almost like he was eating something spicy. He'd have to remember to plant one of these in the estate garden when he got back to the twilight lands.

Bob had been walking for about two hours when he arrived in a clearing at the same time as four other people, two from the left of the clearing and two from directly across the clearing from Bob. Bob squinted, looking at the newcomers as he strode forward across the clearing, munching on a pinecone. Across from him was what looked like a red-headed human male and a not-very-big she-orc; coming from the left was a chocolate centauress and a short human female. They all walked silently, warily towards each other, as that's where the ringing was driving them.

"Shit, not another minotaur." The orc complained as they all converged and stopped ten feet away from each other. "I don't have great experiences with minotaurs." she explained to her human companion. Upon closer examination, Bob saw that the orc's features were a bit daintier than a typical orc, so, maybe it was some sort of half-orc? He had never heard of that happening before, but there were half-elves, so that didn't seem unfeasible. Bob just shrugged and popped another pinecone into his mouth. The human that arrived with the centauress nudged her equine companion and asked,

"I suppose I'm not supposed to kill these ones either?" Bob could have sworn he saw the human's eyes turn yellow for a fraction of a second.

"No, you're not." The centaur scolded the human. "But that does raise an interesting question." She held up a coin that was very similar to Bob's. "Do any of you happen to have one of these?" Everyone present held up a coin. The human female rolled her eyes, the orkin face-palmed, the human male's eyebrows shot up, and the centauress let out a knowing "Ah." Bob offered a pinecone to the red-bearded human, who politely declined.

"So, what does it mean?" Asked the orkin, who sounded like she was trying to mask uneasiness with impatience.

"I think it means we have a party!" Bob cheerily suggested with a mouthful of pinecone. "We can find a bar and drink ourselves into oblivion!" There was a moment of silence where everyone present stared at Bob like he had grown an extra set of horns before the orkin chimed in with,

"I actually think that's a great idea."

"That doesn't sound like something Loki would do. Maybe Thor or Baldur, but Loki is less likely to guide mortals frivolously to debauchery." The man mused into his beard.

"Perhaps we should all introduce ourselves?" the centauress proposed. "We might then get an idea of why we've been brought together."

"Is that a good idea...?" the human female asked the centauress pointedly.

"It can't hurt. If a god has brought us together, I can't imagine that he doesn't expect us to end up trusting others in the same group. I'll go first." She looked around. "I'm Zinc; I'm from a tribe of no real consequence a good ways south of here; I'm handy with most weapons, but I prefer lances, and I have some practical magic."

The human male spoke next, "I'm Aiden, a human; I'm from a town across the sea, I'm a cleric of Odin and a caster, though I'm not terrible up close and personal."

"I'm Tarabaum," the orkin said, "and, yes, I'm an orkin. I'm part of a monastic order that knows how to enjoy liquor."

"The praying kind of monastic order or the punchy type?" Zinc asked inquisitively.

"The punchy kind." Tarabaum confirmed.

"I'm Bob." The minotaur volunteered once his mouth was clear of pinecones. "I'm a minotaur and I hit things. I get mad sometimes and hit things harder."

"Do you hit things with your fists or do you use weapons?" Tarabaum asked.

"Uhhh.... yes...? I could use these, too." Bob gestured to the mass of pinecones his left arm was cradling. The others all nodded, though it was more of a placation nod than anything else.

"I'm Zorah." The human female said. Her eyes were definitely an uncomfortable shade of yellow now. "I'm a fear-bolg."

"A-heh-- ...what?" Bean started to chuckle nervously as if she was expecting Zorah to state that she was joking, but stopped, though the look on her face indicated that she didn't know how to react to this information. The other's faces all reflected her sentiments. Bob had heard of fear-bolgs and their sadistic terrors, but had also heard that they had vacated the twilightlands.

"You heard right. I have some limited shape-shifting powers. If I have the skin of something, I can wear it and I can usually turn into it, but I have to turn into my regular form before I can make another transformation."

"So, you're wearing a human, right now?" Aiden asked. He didn't sound frightened, but his eyes betrayed some definite concern.

"Yes. I usually travel as a fox, because my jacket hood is made of fox-pelt, but I've got some bracelets of skins of some of the normal races. Well, human and dwarf, anyway. It helps if I encounter people wandering in the forest. People transformations can last most of the day, but animal transformations only last a couple hours at best. I've got a couple animals that are decent for combat."

Tarabaum, Aiden, and Bob all had expressions of various stages of alarm. Zinc had already been through this, so she just stood there with pursed lips.

"Since a god is having us do this," Zorah continued, "you all have nothing to fear from me. Far be it from me to defy a god's wishes."

"Well." Tarabaum stated. "Well. Well. That is all generally terrifying."

"Aside from the coins," Aiden offered, changing the subject, "do we have anything in common?" They all looked around at each other in silence for a few moments, thinking.

"A human, an orkin, a minotaur, a centaur, and... a fear-bolg..." Aiden thought out loud. "I'm from across the sea, Tarabaum is from a monastery-- er... Bob, where are you from?"

"The twilightlands." Bob replied, matter-of-fact-ly. Everyone stared at him for a moment and marveled at the thought of a minotaur being from the land of the fae.

"...a minotaur from the twilightlands," Aiden continued, "a tribal centaur, and a fear-bolg from...?"

"From over there!" Zorah helpfully pointed in the direction from where she came from.

"...err... yes. Nope, I've got nothing." Aiden concluded.

Almost like it was waiting on cue, the ringing everyone was hearing swung to point north.

"Did you all...?" Zinc asked.

"Yep." Tarabaum confirmed. the rest nodded.

"Well, let us all find out what the trickster god wants from us." Aiden suggested.

They all agreed and headed north.

"Anyone want a prickly dry-fruit?"