Dominic Deegan Fansite

Age : 72 Joined : 14 Dec 2007 Posts : 101

OOC: This fic revolves around Stunt after he was banished from Barthis. I'm going to try to stay as faithful to canon as I can and minimalize the OC's.

Before the first installment, which I'm calling 'Bits,' Stunt tried breaking into the Slaughterball game like Bumper suggested, but got caught. Newton covered for Stunt and not only got him out of jail, but he also got him into the stadium. They've been traveling since. That was a month ago.
Now for the first Bit.

IC
Bit 1: The Morning of No Breakfast

Stunt had gotten good at shaving with only his knife. When he had a mirror he was even better. Years of living on one’s own allowed a person to master such feats, especially in a life on the go. But Stunt was a mugger, not a ragamuffin. Okay, so maybe he was a ragamuffin, but even ragamuffins have standards. And after years of traveling with Bumper, he’d grown accustomed to having company around. To Stunt’s dismay, however, his latest company wasn’t a thief. In fact, he was a faggy good-shoes who respected women and despised crime, particularly murder and thievery. But there was just something about this guy that Stunt liked, and it wasn’t the fact that he had gotten him out of jail and into a Slaughterball game free of charge. Twice.

“So, Newt, how come I’ve never seen you shave?” Stunt asked, attempting to make some sort of conversation on this particularly dull morning. The thief hadn’t stolen anything, killed anyone, or done anything exciting in the last five days. Oddly enough, it felt satisfying, living peacefully. Unfortunately, Stunt’s pockets were unusually empty. Newton’s, however, seemed to be endless, and they never had to worry about food or shelter, so long as both were present. This particular day they had taken up residence in a barn, hidden from the local farmers. Hay made excellent beds for the thief on the go.

“Secrets from an old friend,” Newton replied. Stunt didn’t know much about his new companion. Stunt didn’t know much about Bumper when they first met, either. His story just sort of unraveled as they traveled together. Newton was an unusual-looking fellow. He was in his late twenties, maybe early thirties and was almost as tall as Seigfried. His hair was wild and untamed and looked almost like a furry, rabid animal that had taken up residence on Newton’s head. He wore a red vest over an orange shirt with a simple pair of jeans. His belt buckle, however, was an odd little ruby engraved in it.

“Yeah, you say that a lot,” Stunt muttered. The vibration of the hair stubs on his face and the sound made from the scraping of the knife on his cheek were harmonious, almost creating a physical and musical harmony. When this came to mind, Stunt stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. What the hell was getting into him? He was shaving, not playing a guitar. Stunt sighed and hastily finished his morning routine, and his stomach demanded food. They hadn’t eaten since the previous morning, so Stunt was feeling weak.

“Hey, Newton, I saw some nice fat chickens in the coop. Wanna fetch one? At least a few eggs, I’m starving,” Stunt suggested. Newton thought for a moment and, to Stunt’s surprise, nodded. What the wild-haired enigma said, however, was rather disappointing.

“I don’t think that the farmer would mind too much if we bought a few things off of him.”

Stunt sighed and shook his head, groaning. He stared Newton strait in the eye and said,

“No way, man. I’ve got to do something dishonest, illegal, or at least juvenile. I’m tired of this goody-two-shoes crap from you. I’m going to STEAL my breakfast today, and unless you want to hand me over to the authorities and go hungry, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
Newton grinded his teeth, thoughtfully gazing at Stunt. It was starting to creep the thief out. He didn’t like it when guys stared at him. Stunt wasn’t gay. He knew that for sure. What he was afraid of someone trying to convert him, and, being close-minded and ignorant, such prospects scared him. His anger towards and fear of women didn’t help the situation, either.

“All right. Grab us a chicken and some eggs, and we’ll be eating well this morning. I’ll cover our tracks so that we won’t be found. Just remember to strangle the chickens,” Newton agreed. Stunt sighed and shook his head, disappointed.

“Hey, you HAVE a knife! Cut their heads off instead,” Newton reminded him. Stunt snickered and descended to the ground silently and casually walked to the chicken coop. He heard the chickens clucking and warning each other of an incoming intruder, but they would be able to accomplish little with their squawks, clucks, and cries. Stunt had invaded chicken coops on numerous occasions, and he’d never been caught. Or so he liked to claim. The truth was that he was always found out, even caught. But Stunt was quick, and he wasted no time slicing off chicken heads and taking their eggs. The other poultry, however, did not take kindly to this, and while Stunt was stuffing his pockets with chicken eggs, the other birds began to flutter, charge, and peck at him. Realizing the danger of pain, Stunt grabbed the two birds he had killed and rushed out of the coop, dropping two eggs as he ran. Though he lost two of the hard-shelled ovulations, he still had grabbed enough food to last at least two more mornings.

Newton wasn’t difficult to find if you knew where and how to look, and Stunt had been traveling with Newton long enough to find him. He was in a forest just off of the road, in a clearing safe enough for a fire, where he was gathering wood, rocks, and water to prepare their breakfast. Stunt gently placed a dozen eggs on the ground, and Newton chuckled. Then Stunt pulled out the coins that Newton had left the farmers in exchange for the theft.

“If I want to steal, I want to steal and do it DISHONORABLY,” Stunt scolded his new friend. Newton snickered and reached for the coins, but Stunt’s foot stopped his hand.

“Uh-huh. Those are MINE now.”

“Fine, fine. Let’s get this fire started, shall we? My stomach caws for food,” Newton said. Stunt pulled out his flint rock that had helped keep him warm and fed so many nights and struck it with the dull side of his knife, making sparks fly at the fireplace. No matter how many sparks he created, however, the kindling wouldn’t light. Stunt furiously struck the rock one last time, and at the corner of his eye he spotted Newton’s hand make a slight motion, and the tiny sparks erupted into balls of flame which caught the kindling aflame. Stunt’s spirits soared-until it went out.

“Newt, did you do that?” Stunt asked. Newton gave Stunt a clueless gaze.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he replied innocently, but Stunt wasn’t convinced.

“Don’t give me that crap, I saw those sparks. Sparks don’t burst into flames like that!”

“I thought that’s what the sparks were for?” Newton asked, now faking befuddlement.

“You know what I mean! They caught fire before they hit the wood!”

“That’s crazy.”

“I saw your hand move! I saw you using magic!” Stunt insisted.

“Why were you looking at my hand?” Newton asked. Stunt realized where Newton’s hand was placed: Casually on his thigh, close to his crotch.

“I saw it in the corner of my eye! I wasn’t looking!” Stunt stated defensively. Newton laughed and nodded.

“Of course,” Newton conceded. Stunt tried again and the same thing happened, although Stunt was careful about keeping his gaze away from Newton’s hand. Once again, the fire went out. Stunt began to strike the flint once more, but at the last moment aimed the sparks at Newton. The red rogue hadn’t expected this and cast his spell anyway and realized his mistake too late. The balls of spark-flames spat on him, catching fire in his wild hair. Newton panicked and began to run around and batting his hair, his head smoking, crying for help as Stunt began to laugh at his friend’s misery. When Newton had finally put out his hair, he was not surprised to see Stunt’s smug look.

“So, you can use magic. Why’d you hide it like that? I can think of a dozen situations in which that would have been useful, one of which would be cooking our breakfast WITHOUT making a fire,” Stunt demanded. Newton sighed.

“I’m not supposed to use magic that much. It’s dangerous for everyone if I use it excessively. I’d rather not say why,” he replied, “I can do small things without repercussions, though, like the spark trick.”
Stunt nodded and then looked at the dead chickens, then at Newton. Newton took a step backwards when Stunt made a malicious smile.

“This isn’t going to work,” Newton insisted, “This is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard quite a number of them.”

The featherless chicken made a gruesome noise as Stunt impaled it on the stick.

“Chickens need to be slowly cooked. They can’t be flash-roasted. We’ll only set something on fire.”

“Well, the fire’s not working, so do you have any other ideas?”

“Actu-“

“I didn’t think so,” Stunt said. The thief stood behind Newton and struck the flint. The sparks burst into big fireballs and struck the chicken in an explosion. The scent of roasted bird filled their nostrils and made Stunt’s mouth water.

“See? Everything’s fine,” Stunt declared, “One cooked chicken. Now all we have to do is heat those rocks and we can cook the eggs!”

Stunt picked up the two flat rocks he had chosen to heat for the eggs. When he looked at the stick, however, the chicken was gone. Two days without food, and the food he actually had was gone. Stunt’s right eye twitched. Normally he would be spooked by such events, but after so many attempts to steal Dominic Deegan’s spellbooks, he’d gotten used to the strange and out of the ordinary. So he wasn’t scared.

Stunt was pissed. And whatever it was that had stolen the chicken had left tracks. Stunt took no notice of Newton’s smug face, either. The cutthroat drew his knife and dropped the rocks. He winced when they hit his feet, but it did nothing to subdue his anger, although Newton found it rather amusing. With a yell of anger and pain, Stunt charged after the creature.

“Stunt! No!” Newton cried. He sighed as the thief charged and shook his head, “You shouldn’t run with your knife out like that!

Age : 72 Joined : 14 Dec 2007 Posts : 101

Bit 2: Galloping Golems! It's...

He was close to his prey. He could smell it. He felt its presence and with just a few more clues, would know what took his chicken. It was HIS; stolen fair and square, and nobody stole from Stunt! He was armed, and whatever it was that had taken his food was going to be his next meal instead.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are and GIVE ME BACK MY CHICKEN!” Stunt screamed. He spun around, his eyes well peeled, when he realized his mistake: The eggs. Unless Newton was looking after them, they were defenseless. That was his breakfast! He had to save it! As fast as he had come, he ran back, the only thing on his mind were those precious, scrumptious, defenseless eggs. But his lost breakfast fell the back of his mind when he came face-to-face with a three-foot, muscular man with one eye closed. And in his hands was a chicken, which Dirk bit into, staring at Stunt.

“What’s up?” Dirk asked mischievously, his mouth half-full of chicken. Stunt’s chicken.

“You,” Stunt replied. He grabbed the chicken from Dirk and punted the dwarf-golem as hard as he could and continued to run. Stunt had run three hundreds yards by the time he realized what he had just done. He sighed as an overwhelming feeling of impending doom took hold in the core of his being. He turned around to be face-to-face with Dirk’s Ogre form. Stunt smiled, pulled off a leg from the chicken, and offered it to him. Right before he fainted.

“And then you-Oh! That had to hurt! I can see why he’s so irritable!” Stunt heard Newton say. Stunt leaned up and rubbed his head. It didn’t hurt, but he was dazed. The scent of cooked meat filled his nostrils and made his empty stomach cry to be filled. He stood up and walked next to Newton, who was sitting at a fire with Dirk and the new Sylvan Oracle, enjoying the other chicken and a few eggs. Stunt stared at them lustfully, saying nothing.

“Uh, stunt, would you like to join us?” the Dryad asked. Stunt nodded and sat, and helped himself to some of the meat and eggs.

“I hadn’t thought you’d wind up with a punk link HIM,” Dirk said, “What made you start traveling with a common thief?”

“Well, I met him in Baccdair, trying to sneak into the stadium. He got caught, and I figured that he shouldn’t throw his life away like that. So I covered for him, using my connection to the new owner of the Baccdair Stadium to get him in.”

“Best seats ever,” Stunt muttered, his mouth half-full.

“You know it. Well, after that I let Stunt go, but he got into trouble again. I bailed him out, and he was acquitted under the condition that I watched over him for a while. So I’m not traveling with him, he’s traveling with me.”

“God, this is good chicken,” Stunt commented, a tear in his eye.

“Want to know what it’s seasoned with?” Dirk asked cruelly.

“Herbs and spices found in every forest,” Newton scolded, “Stunt’s had a long day. Leave him alone.”

“Hey, I don’t need you to protect me!” Stunt said, “I was doing fine without you anyway.”

“Yeah, prison is a popular place I hear,” Newton spat back. Stunt glared at at Newton and finished his meal and stood up.

“Thanks for the food,” he thanked, and he left.

“You’d better be thankful for us allowing a fi-“

“Shut up, Dirk,” Newton snapped. Normally Dirk would have fought back, but he knew Newton too long. The minimalist magician stood up and went after Stunt, who he found sitting in a tree, playing with the leaves, but not harming them. Doing so would likely further infuriate their hosts, even Stunt knew that. He’d been around magic too much.

“Stunt-“

“Save your breath, I don’t want to hear a faggy speech about how sorry you are and how much you’ve enjoyed my company and whatever else. You’re right, though. You’ve saved me from prison, twice. And I’ve just been a stupid kid. Newton, I’ve killed people and gotten away with it. The reason I’m traveling is because I slit someone’s throat. I was saving a bunch of people, but I’m a murderer, a mugger, and a thief and I said to my best friend that I’d go strait. And then I’ve stolen two chickens and a fourteen eggs.”

“Twelve,” Newton corrected.

“I dropped two.”

“Oh. Well, I guess old habits die-hard. I’m not going to ask for your history or anything, Stunt, but I’d like to understand you better. If I’m going to watch after you, I might as well as know what I’m watching.”
Stunt groaned and rubbed his temples.

“I’m just a thief, Newt, that’s all you need to know. And what about you? You can only use little bits of magic? How do you know Dirk and his…His, uh…”

“Dryad?”

“Well, that’s not what I was gonna say, but it works,” Stunt decided. Newton leaned up against the tree and scratched his chin, thinking of the right words to say.

“If you’re a murderer, Stunt, then I’m a weapon of mass destruction. Dirk and his Dryad helped me through that phase in my life by almost destroying me. I don’t think you’d get the details, but if I use more powerful magic, then terrible things happen. Otherwise we’d already be in Quiral,” Newton explained.

“Why are we headed to Quiral? I never agreed to that!”

“What’s wrong with Quiral?”

“Beyond that witch Miranda Deegan and her family? All those damn wizards! I won’t be able to do anything useful! What can I do in Quiral?”

“There’s someone there I’d like you to meet. Besides, I’ll be meeting with ‘that witch’ to help me out with something. I’ve met my share of criminals, Stunt, and you’re one of the most unique I’ve met. There’s ways to live honorably and still not give up your old way of life,” Newton said. Stunt’s fists curled and he shook his head.

“I can’t go to Quiral.”

“Why? What happened there?”

Age : 72 Joined : 14 Dec 2007 Posts : 101

Bit 3: Stunt Revealed

“I was born in Quiral. It’s not a bad place to grow up, really. I wasn’t fantastically rich, but I wasn’t dirt poor, either. I had two older sisters and a little sister,” Stunt began. He remembered his three sisters, Lola, Lily, and Lydia as he mentioned them. They all looked alike, simply younger or older versions of each other the last he’d sent them, except for Lily, who had her father’s black hair. Even Stunt looked like his sisters to an extent.

“My father owned a bar and it was family-run. The professors at the University used to come by after their classes and have a drink, share stories and ideas, that sort of thing. My dad tried teaching me how to run the bar, but I wasn’t interested.” Stunt’s father had strait, black hair that he kept cut short. Sometimes, when Stunt’s father told him to get a keg to keep up with demand, Stunt would sneak one out for him and his friends, and was usually absent when his father asked for him.

“My mother, after having my little sister, Lydia, was rather sickly, but she still kept active. Three girls and a delinquent son was a big strain on her. She shouldn’t have kept working in the bar, it wasn’t good for her. But she was a stubborn woman, strong-willed, too. No matter how weak she felt, she was always stronger than all of us.” His mother had yellow-blond hair that three of their children shared. Stunt’s mother had been able to stand up to the biggest, meanest, and strongest thugs that Stunt had gotten on the bad side of and always turned out victorious on behalf of her children.

“I was well on my way to the life I live now by the time I was fifteen. My oldest sister married off by that time, and Lydia was twelve. She idolized me for living on my own, without rules or parents. Most of the time I was sleeping in the streets or my ‘girlfriend,’ who was nothing more than a whore I didn’t have to pay. Lydia started taking after me, stealing and robbing. It took me a while to find out, and when I did I started to show her the ropes. She was better at it than I was.” Where Stunt would usually break windows or use force to rob people, his sister would find ways to silently open windows and use her adorable looks for donations-then she would swipe their wallets.

“That’s where my nickname comes from. Stunt and Swipe, the sibling thieves. But after a year…my parents found out and tried to keep her in the house. She should have listened to them. She ran away. There was a group of thugs I’d crossed, and they got a hold of her. She was thirteen years old. And the thugs got away with it. That’s when I met Urban Eddie. He taught me how to slit throats and new ways to rob people. I tracked them down and killed every one of them for murdering my little sister. But one of them was the kid of someone of power, and I got arrested for it. My father blew all of his savings for my bail. And I left Quiral. He never got his money back because I never showed up for court. My mother died of grief, and that’s the last I heard of them, except for my older sister, who was living in the capital last I heard. He husband was Knighted or something.” Stunt never could get the words of his father’s letter to him that disowned him.

Newton was silent. He hadn’t expected the WHOLE thing out of Stunt.

“Well, that answers a few things, actually. Normally I would think of a way to make you feel better, but I really can’t think of one. But I won’t scold you for it. You’ve been torn about it enough, so you obviously feel guilty, and you’ve accepted what happened. I won’t force you to go find your family and make peace, but it would be a good idea. And we’re still going to Quiral, whether you like it or not. There’s something personal there I have to take care of. And for your own sake, no more stealing or violence. Unless you really need to, of course, just remember your promise to your friend,” Newton said, “Lynn’s Brook isn’t too far from here, we can get some supplies there, and we won’t have to steal chickens from local farmers. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Stunt agreed. As he descended from the tree, he asked, “So where did you learn magic, anyway?”

“It’s just something that’s always been with me. My story isn’t as simple as yours. I’ll tell you when I’m ready, but I’m not sure if you’ll be able to grasp all of it.”

“Newt, I’ve tried to steal from Dominic Deegan. I’ve battled Royal Knights and killed professional criminals. I can grasp a number of things.”

Newton stared at him. Stunt turned red and screamed,

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!”

Age : 72 Joined : 14 Dec 2007 Posts : 101

What do you guys think of this so far? And be serious. And honest. I know Newton's not revealing much of his personality, and I'm a little short on the jokes. I promise that you'll see more of the sort of stuff you'd find in the DD universe soon.

Up next in Bit 4: Bugsight the Necromancer, a man with an all-too-familiar gift.

The Man Without a Rank Joined : 13 Oct 2007 Posts : 2225

It is good, but you need more puns and alliteration. DD revolves around puns and alliteration.

I love the very last joke.
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Spoiler:

Subject: Re: Stunt and Friends Mon Dec 17, 2007 7:22 pm

What Magello said, minus the last bit.
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Spoiler:

Honorable Mention CCs #19 and #31

My avatar is from a webcomic called Chainmail Bikini, which has unfortunately died.

Please note that, if you see a quote of me in a sig, it is probably from the period of time when Magello took over my username. Crazy guy.

Spoiler:

Nice!!!

Age : 72 Joined : 14 Dec 2007 Posts : 101

I'll work on the puns. I just can't think of any, it's driving me nuts! I've been trying to capture the humor in other ways.
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Stunt and Friends
Everyone's favorite misogynist thief is back in his own adventure!

Spoiler:

Age : 72 Joined : 14 Dec 2007 Posts : 101

OOC: Okay, so not so much comedy in this one, but there is a nice fight scene and (I think) the best joke I've made so far. Which isn't saying a lot, but I'm trying!

IC
Bit 4: Bugsight and Otaia

Lynn’s Brook had a reputation for being a town of ignoramuses. It was a small town, and the only reason it was significant was because it was at a crossroad between several key cities in Callan. With just a few days’ or even hours, one could reach the capital, Errosus, Quiral, and wasn’t too far from the sea, either. But despite being exposed to so much, the people of Lynn’s Brook took it all with a grain of salt. Stunt understood why that grumpy Seer moved away.

“Need tents?” the tent dealer asked.

“Gonna buy some fruit?” the fruit salesman asked as they placed their bag of fruit on his counter.

“Hey, nice knife, know how to use it?” a passerby asked. His hair was particularly ornate and rather obnoxious.

“Newt, can I give him a demonstration?” Stunt begged.

“No.”

“Please?”

“Demonstration of what?” the man asked. Newton's opinion of the man wasn't particularly high as it was, but this had done it.

“Yes, you can,” Newton informed Stunt. The thief drew his knife and gave a wicked smile.

“Hey, what are you doi-THAT’S MY-AAAAAHHHH!”

“All right, let’s get out of here,” Newton decided after seeing Stunt mutilate the man’s hair and steal his wallet. Now the man looked no different than anyone else.

“MUGGER! MONSTER! MURDERER!” the man screamed.

“MORON!” Stunt shouted back, half-laughing as he and Newton left the town on that note. Newton snickered at Stunt’s response.

“Good one.”

“Thanks. I thought you might like that.”

After half-leaving, half-fleeing Lynn’s Brook, the duo found them once again in a forest. Both had been in this thicket before, but in years of absence, it had gotten thicker, darker, and more foreboding than before. Leaves and twigs clung to their ankles. Eerie birds made noises that followed their every step. The trees rustled with an unseen, possibly threatening life. Stunt’s steps were light and slow as he cautiously lurked through the forest alongside the casual, although tense, Newton. Stunt whimpered as an unknown figure passed by in a distant shadow. A clanking noise echoing from all around them in the forest caused the thief to draw his knife.

“I-we’re-we’re armed! Come out and show yourself!” Stunt warned. Just as he made his quavering threat, a skeleton jumped out from behind a tree in front of Stunt, rattling its clanking bones and flailing its limbs, causing stunt to emit a very loud high-pitched scream. The moment of terror was broken, however, by a roaring laughter that rang though the forest and split through the tension.

“That was a wonderful idea Otaia! His face was priceless!” a voice cried out, and he stepped to where he was visible.

“Your face is going to be worth about one coin!” Stunt threatened. He relaxed, however, when he saw how unusual this man looked. He was well in his seventies, as he had aged skin and his greasy, stringy hair was a light gray. His posture was poor and one could almost hear his bones grinding against each other. His most prominent feature, however, was his eyes. They were about the size of a small ball and stuck out of his face like a bug’s. The man blinked, making a gruesome sloshing sound that made Stunt shudder.

“Please, accept my apologies. When Otaia saw how tense you were as you walked about the forest, she couldn’t resist the opportunity to frighten you. I haven’t had a laugh like that in a while,” the man said. He blinked again, causing both of them to shudder and he continued, “I am known as Bugsight, a necromancer of some small fame, and this is my apprentice, Otaia. She’s feeling a little thin today, as you can see.”

“Are you sure you’re a Necromancer? Because that’s a male skeleton. The pelvis is wrong for a woman,” Newton asked.

“How many male pelvises have you observed to know that?” Stunt teased.

“I’ve studied anatomy. Unlike you, Stunt, I’ve actually got some experience in distinguishing male bodies to females,” Newton retorted. Bugsight found this quite amusing, and the skeleton Otaia seemed to agree, as she/he/it seemed to shake jestingly.

“I assure you, Otaia is a woman, and quite a ravishing young lady at that. Her current form is the result of one of her lessons: Undead possession. And if you observe closer, you’ll find that she’s neither male nor female. The skeleton she’s possessed is actually a mixture of several long-dead people from bones I’ve collected over the years. We call him ‘Jacklington’ and we do a number of experiments on him. We use him for experiments, and we’re working on the name, Otaia named him when she was nine. Right now, however, it’s Otaia in there.”

“Well, uh, can you fix it?” Stunt asked, “You know, Necromancer stuff? Bang a couple of bones together and make weird chants or something?”
Bugsight blinked again, caused the companions to cringe. Bugsight stared off vacantly for a while, and Stunt waved his hand in front of his abnormally large eyes, but the Necromancer didn’t react. Stunt looked at Newton, who shrugged, and so Stunt poked him in the shoulder. The Necromancer jumped and screamed suddenly, caused Stunt to yelp in surprise, creating another round of laughter from the macabre magician and his skeletal student. Bugsight caught his breath and patted the not-so-amused Stunt on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. I occasionally have visions, and I go a bit brain-dead for a moment, and when you were flailing your arms like that I couldn’t resist,” Bugsight explained, “As for your question, yes, we can fix her, but we seem to have misplaced her body. I know where it is, I just don’t know how it got there. We may need your help getting it back. Care to join us?”

“No wa-“ Stunt began.

“Sure, we wouldn’t mind helping you comb for her cadaver,” Newton agreed, creating a nasty glare from Stunt. Newton noticed and shrugged defensively.

“Splendid! It won’t take long to get there, just a short stroll,” Bugsight concurred.

“’It won’t take long to get there!’” Stunt whined after two hours of walking, “’Just a short stroll!’”

“Stunt, you walk all day long. You should be used to this,” Newton reminded him.

“Oh, yeah, we’re always walking through a forest with more bumps than an Orc’s arse and more sharp objects on the ground than a Royal Knight’s trophy room with a weird old guy and his anorexic apprentice. Real every day occurrence,” Stunt pointed out.

“If I make you uncomfortable, all you have to do is say something,” Bugsight said.

“And you’ll do what?”

“Oh, nothing. Just think of a creepier joke to pull on you,” the necromancer chuckled.

“How does a dead body even move this far anyway? Shouldn’t it be limp or something? How did you lose something like a corpse?” Stunt asked, cringing from the fact that he had just delivered himself more torment.

“We were ill-prepared for the experiment, and we were forced to abandon the body so that we could get the proper materials. A fellow Necromancer found her body and believes her to be dead. Hopefully he isn’t the nasty, power-hungry kinds that have tarnished our reputation,” the bug-eyed necrologist said.

“You work with dead bodies and make them move. It’s not difficult to do that on your own,” Stunt retorted.

“Actually, I prefer other means of studying necromancy. Corpses really aren’t my thing, and I despise killing for any reasons, and I am no grave robber. I only use donated or long-dead bodies, and most of the time I use animals if I must have corpses. I do not waste.”

“Great, a nerd necromancer,” the crude cutthroat muttered. He didn’t realize that Otaia’s white, bony hand was resting on his shoulder until it moved. When he brushed his shoulder, the hand grabbed his arm and once more he shrieked like a little girl. He shook the arm off, only to realize it wasn’t connected to anything, at which time he hurled it at Otaia, who only caught the appendage and replaced it back onto her shoulder.

“It may be some relief to you,” Bugsight added, “That we’re almost there.”

“Oh? And how many hours will thaAAAAHHHH!” Stunt screamed as he turned back towards Bugsight and saw what had given Bugsight his clue. A mob of zombies stood in their way, staring at them homicidally. Stunt, upon seeing the zombies, whimpered in fear.

“Don’t worry, not a particularly high-quality bunch,” Bugsight assured him, “Easily turned.” The necromancer held out his hand, and the zombies relaxed and shuffled out of the way. Standing behind them was a skeletal figure. Only parts of his body had any remaining flesh. He stood just under six foot tall and wore a black robes that covered most of his body. Parts of his head were barren and his skull was visible. What hair he had was long and black, with white streaks.

“Self-experimentation of necromancy. Interesting method. Personally I think I’m ugly as it is, but whatever gets you animated,” Bugsight commented.

“Who are you and why did you steal my zombies?” the half-undead man asked. To Stunt, his voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Ah, yes, please excuse me, but they didn’t look too friendly-“ Bugsight began

“They weren’t,” the man assured them, not looking at Bugsight at all, but at Newton. There was something about this man that looked familiar, but Newton couldn't quite put his finger on it.

“-so I took the liberty of removing them as a threat. They won’t be hard to reclaim, and I’ll just let them wander about for a while. As for our identities, I am Bugsight, a fellow necromancer. This skeleton is my apprentice, Otaia. My companions are…Hmm, I don’t believe I caught your names.”

“I’m Newton.”
Stunt whimpered.
“…And this is Stunt,” Newton said in the thief’s stead. The strange wizard studied them all for a moment, particularly Newton.

“My name is Jacob. What do you want?”

“My apprentice, Otaia, seems to have misplaced her body, and we’re looking for it, and I have reason to believe that you may be in possession of it. Do you have a corpse of a young woman, in her early twenties, wearing black robes with gold lace, and you couldn’t raise in any way?” Bugsight asked. The necromancer raised an eyebrow and stared at them for a moment.

“Yes, I do.”

“Could we have it?”

“No.” Bugsight blinked and scratched his head, causing Stunt to shudder again and it surprised Jacob. Bugsight stared at Jacob for a few moments, causing the younger necromancer to take a step back, somehow intimidated. Newton looked at Stunt, who was pale and quivering, and then to Otaia, who made no gestures or any expression at all.

“It won’t work,” Bugsight suddenly said.

“What won’t work?” Jacob asked, eying the odd Necromancer.

“Your idea. It’s not going to work. You’ll be wasting your time and energy, not to mention my apprentice’s body. It’s not a difficult feat, I’m surprised you don’t know it yourself. Please, there is no need for this to get violent.”

“Are you threatening me now, old man?” Jacob asked, clenching his bone-bare fist. Bugsight shook his head.

“No, but you’re going to attack us. And that won’t work, either.”

“We’ll just see about that, old man,” Jacob declared. A sword made from a spine and various other bones appeared in his hand. Bugsight parted his robes and began to rise up. Thick skeletal legs emerged with nastily sharp points at the ends. When Bugsight was at his full height, he was easily seventeen feet high. Even Jacob had been caught off guard by this surprise, but it did not deter him. Jacob grabbed a noose in Bugsight’s skeletal leg and hurled himself upward, but Bugsight swung a leg at him, tossing Jacob to the side. Bugsight pulled a sharpened bone off of his vest and held it out in front of him, then let it go. It floated for a moment, and then shot towards Jacob. The half-undead man sliced it in half with his bone sword in a single swipe and ran towards Bugsight again.
_________________
Stunt and Friends
Everyone's favorite misogynist thief is back in his own adventure!

Spoiler:

Age : 72 Joined : 14 Dec 2007 Posts : 101

Jacob was unaware that Otaia had used the battle to sneak away. Jacob was hiding something in the forest, and it couldn’t be far. But it was just a forest. Creepy and dark, but just a forest. It was so easy to disguise things to blend in, and so easy for something to be out of place. Otaia kept walking about, looking for something unusual. And what traps did Jacob have? Were there more fearsome undead creatures about? Otaia couldn’t use her powers beyond going back into her body, and even then she needed some materials which, of course, she had hidden in her skull.
Soon the trees became sparser and less frequent until she was in a clearing which was clear of anything alive. There were no trees, grasses, animals, or even leaves. And Jacob had been digging here. There were numerous excavations and bodies or body parts piled in a heap. And lying next to the heap was her body. Otaia rattled with relief and approached her own limp corpse.

Jacob shattered one of Bugsight’s legs, causing the older Necromancer to lose his balance. The younger climbed the lowered skeletal legs and approached Bugsight’s vulnerable body. A fireball shot him off at the last moment, and Bugsight re-attached the destroyed leg with his magic. Newton jumped into the air and landed atop Jacob, kicking away his sword.

“Bad things happen when I use magic,” Newton growled.

“Worse things happen to those that stand in my way,” Jacob snarled back. He grabbed Newton's leg and tossed him aside with his undead arm's enhanced strength. Newton, like Jacob, was no regular human, and kicked off a tree, magically speeding his body back towards the rising Jacob who grabbed Newton's long, frilly hair and tossed him aside. Jacob dodged Bugsight's stomping arachnid legs and resumed fighting the aged man. Bugsight slashed across, making a light gash in Jacob's chest, obviously inflicting pain. Stunt, who had been half-dazed from the freights and the sudden magical outburst of the fight, snapped out of his trance and realized that although he didn't have any magic, he did have a five-inch knife.

Jacob and Newton had gotten down to throwing punches and Bugsight was unable to do anything, as Newton's back was to him. If he attacked Jacob, he might hit Newton, and he didn't know how far the stranger's powers extended to. Bugsight, even with his visions, didn't expect the scrawny one, Stunt, to yank Jacob's thinning hair and place his long knife tightly against his throat.

“Are you going to cooperate?” Stunt asked. Jacob raised his elbow to knock Stunt away, but the thin man held the knife tighter.

“Move me and my knife moves. Do you want to take that chance?” Stunt asked, and Jacob lowered his arm. Newton's hand glowed a bright orange with some sort of powerful spell, and he signaled to Stunt to let go, and Stunt reluctantly did so reluctantly. The oldest of the Deegan brothers What was left of his cheeks raised in a wicked skeletal grin and he said, staring Newton in the eyes,

“I'd wondered where I'd seen you before, and I just realized I haven't. My parents told me about you. You don't have to worry about casting spells. The Storm was destroyed over a year ago. Inadvertently I created another just like you. Total failure, but the Chosen were a rather entertaining bunch. Weak, but entertaining. You've gotten far more powerful without them. What a shame you're making company with people like him,” Jacob said, motioning to Stunt and Bugsight.

“All the better that the Storm has been destroyed,” Newton declared. His hand glowed a brighter orange, “Now I don't have to hold back if you try to kill us again. How are the Deegans, anyway, Jacob? Even though you haven't got much of one, your face betrays your heritage.”

“I haven't spoken to them since the last time I tried to kill them and they took my golem. But I've learned from my mistakes. It's really not the parts, it's how they're assembled. You'd know plenty about that, wouldn't you?” Bugsight's pupils shrunk.

“You're-No! Do you know what will happen if you-”

“I'm counting on just that!” Jacob declared and with a maniacal cackle he descended into the ground just as Bugsight stomped down onto where Jacob had been.

“Dammit! We've got to move!” Bugsight declared, using his giant skeleton legs to run. Stunt and Newton couldn't keep up, but there were plenty of tracks to follow. They found themselves in the clearing that Otaia had found. The only difference was that there were no longer any bodies. Only a skeleton standing stiff and vacant and Otaia, well alive. Her hair straw blond with red and orange streaks. She wore loose robes that covered her body from the bottom of her neck to her ankles and covered her wrists. Gold lace lined her cuffs, neckline, and shoulders. Otaia was studying one of the mass graves. Stunt harrumphed, thinking about making a snide comment, but thought the better of it. If she could possess a skeleton, and after watching the old fart, he didn't want to know what she was capable of.

“Master, you're all right! This is the-”

“Yes, Otaia, I know,” Bugsight said, his legs lowering him down and folding back into his robes, “We aren't safe here. We need to get to Quiral and warn the authorities.”

“Wait, why aren't we safe here?” Stunt demanded.

“You mean we're going to the University?” Otaia asked, ignoring Stunt.

“Yes. There's not much else I can teach you, Otaia. There are other things you need to learn about magic. Newton, I hope you don't mind if we tag along with you for a bit,” the old wizard confirmed.

“No problem. I'd feel safer with someone more familiar with the forest,” Newton agreed.

“Excuse me, do I get a say in this? Honestly, I don't want to be hanging out with this creepy old coot and his...Apprentice,” Stunt stated. Newton was very close to hitting Stunt for almost insulting Otaia, but smiled when Stunt held himself back.

“Fine, you can find your own way out of the forest. I wouldn't want to be around when the souls of the dead soldiers Jacob stole come to maim you for being int eh wrong place,” Otaia declared. Stunt studied the barren clearing.

“Let's go to Quiral, shall we?”
_________________
Stunt and Friends
Everyone's favorite misogynist thief is back in his own adventure!

Spoiler:

Age : 72 Joined : 14 Dec 2007 Posts : 101

OOC: Actual alliteration and puns made in this one, but not so humor-orientated. More Stunt arcs soon.

IC:
Bit 5: A Cold Welcoming

To Otaia, it was just as her master had described the city. There was magic everywhere, performing little tasks like cleaning the streets and even walking animals as their owners chatted with a friend. Students practiced their respective arts, throwing massive spells at each other or creating clouds of energy, or even just sticking their nose in books. The city was also bustling with trade and people looking for something. Her head spun as she absorbed all of it all at once, and every bit of it was euphoric.

To Stunt, it was a scar in his memories of the days he would break into these buildings and take what wasn't his. He spotted places that were once his favorite hangout places, where he and his criminal buddies would stash their loot and make use of it. Now those places were active with lucrative businesses as the city had cleansed itself.

“I need to see the board of the college,” Bugsight announced, “The fact that the site of the Battle of Ghostwood has been defiled is disturbing news and must be handled, not to mention getting Otaia into the college and applying for a job myself.”

“It would be best if I saw them, as well. I came to see them about something rather personal,” Newton said.

“About the Storm of Souls? I knew that the Beacon was still alive, but it wasn't until you were almost here that I saw that our paths would cross.”

“I'd rather not talk about it. Stunt, do what you want, just don't leave the city, all right?”

“I'll do whatever the hell I want!” Stunt declared.

“Should we meet somewhere particular?” Newton asked, ignoring Stunt.

“There's this nice bar that all the professors like to go to I hear is stilla round,” Bugsight suggested. Stunt was about to object when Newton said, “No, I'd rather not go to a bar.”

“What about that Sushi thing you described?” Otaia asked. Bugsight smiled and nodded.

“Aye, good idea. It's-”

“I know where it is,” Stunt interjected, “I used to steal their food. I can show it to her. Sundown?”

“Sundown,” Newton agreed, and they parted ways.

“So Anton if it's a boy and Miriam if it's a girl?” Luna asked, stroking her hand over her bulging stomach.

“I think it'll be a girl, but yes, that sounds good,” Dominic agreed. Luna shoved him playfully.

“Hey, you can't use your sight to find out before it's born!” Luna declared, “You promised!”

“I didn't!” Dominic insisted, patting Luna's stomach, “I've just got a feeling in my belly.”

“So Loaded Luna and Daddy Dominic have Chosen their Child's New Name?” Spark asked, hopping onto Dominic's lap as they sat in a bench in Dominic's office, which had been expanded to be a full house, as theirs in Barthis was under renovations as Rocky added new rooms for the baby and any more.

“Yeah,” Dominic and Luna said together. A knock disturbed their moment and Dominic groaned. They were having a moment! Couldn't he get any peace?

“Dominic, Luna, Cassafinn has asked for you two,” one of the other teachers said.

“Thank you,” Dominic replied. He sighed and they leaned against each other again.

“Duty calls,” they said together.

“I swear, if you two say 'doodie calls' when your kid poops I'm going to hock such a hairball into your slippers, Boss,” Spark grumbled.

“So what made you a Necromancer? Your parents die in a fire or something?” Stunt asked, attempting to make conversation. For the last twenty minutes they'd been wandering, seemingly nowhere. Stunt knew where he was going, though; he was just taking the long way to get there.

“No, nothing tragic. I'm still in contact with my parents. When I was eight my parents got me a puppy, and it was run over by a horse,” Otaia said. She could still remember how mortified she had been at the sight of her new dog lying in the road, quite still.

“Bugsight was collecting animal corpses for experiments, and he found my puppy after my dad brought it home to bury it. He didn't realize it belonged to us and resurrected it, and I screamed like I'd never screamed before when I saw my dead dog get back up.” Her father decapitated the zombie puppy in fear, but she didn't state that fact. The memory still haunted-and somewhat amused-her.

“He realized his mistake and brought Jacklington with him. Jack was so much fun to play with that after he paid reparations I went and found him again to play with Jacklington. Bugsight started teaching me bits of this and that, and eventually he asked my parents to allow me to become his apprentice.” Her parents had been terrified when they heard that their little girl had been practicing necromancy behind their backs, but they couldn't refuse when Otaia insisted.

“When I was thirteen my parents allowed me to become his full-time apprentice. Bugsight told me about bits of his past, taught me Necromancy, magic, and some second sight. That sort of thing. Now he claims I can handle anything he gives to me. He just needs to give it to me!” Otaia declared.

“So you've learned to take care of yourself pretty well, huh?” Stunt asked. Otaia nodded.

“Yeah, I suppose so. I wouldn't have been the same without Bugsight. I'd be just another girl, probably married and with some shallow husband living a shallow life,” Otaia spat.

“But you'd be safe at least,” Stunt said, but Otaia laughed at this.

“Yeah right. I wouldn't be able to do anything to protect myself! What if that Jacob person had attacked my family or friends? But now I can protect myself and more. I'm safer now than I ever was with my family. You saw Bugsight fight. Even if I couldn't raise a zombie, he'd be there to protect me, and he knows plenty of people that would have taken care of me if he died,” Otaia retorted. Stunt suppressed his temptation to explode, and simply said, “I suppose you're right.

“So are we headed anywhere?” Otaia asked, studying the streets around them. It was a business district, not too far from the college, but none of the buildings were particularly high. Just small businesses, but they were nonetheless busy as they prepared for the college to let out for the afternoon. Stunt looked around and spotted his father's tavern: The Endless Mug. Still in tact, and still in great condition. Stunt stared at it for a while, motionless. Otaia poked him a couple of times.

“Hellloooo? Stunt?” she demanded. Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned. An older man with pepper hair and a pink shirt held his finger to his mouth, bidding her to silence. She held back a snicker when he licked his finger and reached for Stunt's ear.

“If it gets any closer to my ear then I'll cut off your finger,” Stunt warned.

“He's sharper than I was told,” Donovan snickered, retreating his hand, “Come on, I see you eying the Endless Mug. I'll buy you guys a drink. You're Stunt, right? No, it was Thumper!”

“It's Stunt. And I'd-”

“I'd love to. I'm Otaia Levin.”

“Donovan Deegan. Lovely to meet you, Levin,” Uncle Pinky declared, kissing her hand. Stunt just stood there, still staring at his father's bar. Donovan stepped towards Stunt.

“If you try to kiss my hand then I'll cut off your tongue.”

“He's got a cutting personality doesn't he?” Donovan grumbled.

“Piercing,” Otaia agreed, grabbing his arm and marching towards the bar, Donovan in tow. Stunt struggled, but didn't make any verbal objections as she dragged him into the bar.
_________________
Stunt and Friends
Everyone's favorite misogynist thief is back in his own adventure!

Spoiler:

Last edited by on Mon Dec 24, 2007 11:12 am; edited 1 time in total

Age : 72 Joined : 14 Dec 2007 Posts : 101

“I never thought I'd ever see the day,” Cassafinn said, gazing at Newton and Bugsight as they stood in the meeting room. There were several teachers and employees gathered there, including Melna and Runcible Spoon, “The first beacon of the Chosen. This ought to be good. I just want Dominic and Miranda to be here when you tell your story. And as for you mister, uh...Bugsight. Your questions will be particularly hard. I'm all for new venues of magic, but Necromancy is a touchy one.”

“I completely understand, Headmistress Sunderliss. I don't exactly have a clean record, either, but time has changed me so, as you can plainly see,” Bugsight said, “There are things that I have forgiven myself for, but others that the world has yet to do. But I also come bringing warnings, but I suppose it would be best if there were Deegans present to hear them.”

“There are,” Miranda Deegan declared, walking in next to Dominic and Luna, “Now what, may I ask, are you doing with HIM?” Bugsight turned around with a wide smile on his face and Luna gasped and stuttered,

“U-Uncle Buggy?”

“You know him?” Dominic asked. Luna nodded.

“Yes, he's my uncle! Uncle Buggy!” she yelled, trotting to him, trying not to strain herself. She embraced him tightly, poking him in the shoulder with his tusks.

“Luna, my girl, it's good to be here with you,” Bugsight said. His hands ran to her stomach and he rubbed it, his face looking up.

“Oh, Luna, I notice you've found someone. What does he look like?” he asked. Newton's jaw dropped upon hearing this.

“Well, he's missing a leg, there are bags under his eyes almost to his nose and he wears these stupid little spectacles that annoy me so much. And he's got this green, baggy sweater that hides his surprisingly well-toned body and a stupid little hat. But most of the time he wears a long scarf that I just love to see him in,” Luna described. Cassafinn scratched her head.

“So mister Bugsight, you're blind, too?” she asked. Bugsight nodded.

“Yes. And my name is Anton Travoria, by the way, if you care to know my birth name,” Bugsight informed her. Dominic's eyes widened and Luna smiled sheepishly. “That does not mean, however, that I am disabled. I have learned to live with it. But that can wait. Right now there are more present dangers. The first is why I came alongside Newton. Jacob Deegan has defiled the site of the Battle of Ghostwood to create, from what I gather, a second necromantic golem. Now, I don't know much about the fall of the Chosen. I helped fight them the first time, which is how I know Miranda, although only on an acquainted level. But if the site has been defiled, then the spirits will haunt the forest again, and possibly attack Lynn's Brook.”

“Not much of a loss there,” Dominic mumbled, making Newton and Luna chuckle. Miranda sighed.

“First of all, Bugsight, while Jacob is my son, he is not a Deegan. He's made that very clear to us. And second, how do you know this?” Miranda asked.

“Battle for Ghostwood? I'm not familiar with that,” Luna asked, sitting down.

“It happened a long time ago, before any of us were born, hundreds of years ago when Callan was, believe it or not, more militiant,” Bugsight began, “Even now, rivalries between Callan and Semanshi are high, but since Callan embraced magic it's grown far more tolerant. But back then, there was a great war, and Callan was almost overrun by the Semanshi forces. The Battle of Ghostwood was the turning point for the war, in which Callan retook its land and expanded into parts of Semashi.

“The battle lasted for over a year, and then Callan brought in wizards. To counter the wizards, Semanshi brought in their own wizards. To break the stalemate, Callan brought in Infernomancers. It was one of the first recorded use of the Demon-wizards in history. The Callanian Infernomancers slaughtered everyone, not just the Semanshi. The Luanian Church realized the danger that the Infernomancers posed, and used the dead souls to destroy the Infernomancers. With the Semanshi forces decimated, Callan was able to rebuild its forces and make a counter-attack. But the ghosts of the souls used still haunted the area.

“The Chosen tried to use the souls for the Storm when Newton was the beacon. I had just returned from the Maltak war myself, having lost my sight and my dignity, and the Chosen tried to recruit me. But I wouldn't have any part of it. When I visited Ghostwood, one of the haunting souls attacked me and I defeated him. He told me what the Chosenw ere doing and with the help of a few friends I have in common with Miranda, I was able to stop the chosen, and the ghosts agreed to lay in rest until they could be put into their proper resting place after the Chosen were defeated.

“Unfortunately, I've had little contact with the outside magic world and wasn't aware that the Storm had been destroyed. And when Jacob Deegan defiled the graves, he released them, and I've yet to fulfill my end of the bargain. On top of my other reasons for coming here, I need help bringing their souls to rest. When they realize that I've not done so, they may attack Lynn's Brook.”

The room was silent for a moment, except for a low growl coming from Melna.

“Something on your mind, Melna?” Cassafinn asked.

“What were you doing in Maltak?” she barked. Bugsight sighed.

“It was a decision that I'd made when I was young, and my master had made a pact with a devil, himself. He became an Infernomancer and left me to my personal studies. I decided that since Callan used so many wizards, they could use a Necromancer. I wanted to fight for something bigger than myself. But I couldn't give up my humanity, either. So I joined the Callan army as a Battlemage.”

Bugsight blinked for the first time, causing the entire room to shudder, but Bugsight seemed to relax.

“I chose to ignore the genocide. I didn't have any part in it myself, and if I was it was unintentional, which I would not doubt. I chose to think of it as a war and that's all. But I befriended one particular Orc prisoner, and he became my friend. I saved him from execution, and he taught me what he knew about Chandrak, and it helped me shape my philosophy on magic. He tried to kill me, though, after seeing his father executed. I subdued him, and the soldiers rushed in to aid me. I insisted that they leave him alone. They killed him when he resisted. So I killed them back by resurrecting his body, and then I resurrected their bodies to kill everyone at the camp that deserved it.

“I decided to use my powers to help the Orcs instead of hurting them. I went to warn the Orcs that there was a Callanian force that was going to hit them very soon. They claimed they didn't believe me and blew some sort of dust in my eyes. It wasn't until later after my eyes had swelled and I had gone blind that I learned it was the Shintula. And that they used my warning to fight off the attackers.”

“Which was a major victory for the Orcs in the war!” Runcible exclaimed, mortified, “They used that victory to gain power in Maltak with the other tribes!”

“They used your free warning to gain power and you only suffered for it,” Dominic summarized. Bugsight shook his head.

“On the contrary, I don't think of it that way. I hate the Shintula for what they did to me. Not what exactly they did but because they did it. But I don't hate Orcs, and I've met a Shintula that became my friend. And besides, losing my sight allowed me to perfect my second sight. Now I use my visions to see around me when I need to. The trouble is sorting out what's past, present, and future. Otherwise I use my other senses to get around,” Bugsight explained, “I can't give you a good reason to calm you down for fighting against the Orcs, Melna. My punishment for doing so was losing my friend. But my scar are my eyes, but only my eyes. And besides, if the Shintula hadn't used my warning, the Orcs would be ruled by Callan. So I'm glad they at least took my warning.”
Melna took a deep breath and rubbed her temples, counting to ten a couple of times. She looked up at Bugsight and smiled.

“Thank you for your honesty. Maltak is not my home, but the Orcs are still my people.”

“I was hoping to tell it anyways. I was hoping to save it for when the subject turned to my prospective employment. No matter. It's all connected anyway, it seems,” Bugsight concluded. The headmistress thought for a moment before nodding. She congregated with the teachers for a few minutes. There were a few raised voices, even a “Curse you, Runcible Spoon!” at one point, but the huddle broke, and a decision had been made.

“Very well. Because you have experience with the spirits of Ghostwood, we will allow you to solve the matter with our research teams. That ought to make Luna very happy,” Cassafinn said. Luna nodded furiously, “Your peers will give reports and when it's all said and done, you will be considered for a teaching position. I look forward to hearing them.”

“Thank you, Headmistress. If I may, can anyone tell me if it's sundown?”

“We have a while yet, mister Travoria.”

“Please. It's Bugsight.”

“Hey! It's Rothesberger! How're you doing! I need drinks for thee!” Donovan declared upon entering, his normal glowing smile lighting up the room. The bar wasn't particularly full, but there were a couple of patrons, including some visiting wizards, most of them eating lunch rather than drinking.

“Donovan! I see you've got some new...Friends...Hello, Larry,” Rothesberger chuckled upon seeing Stunt, who shook his head.

“It's still 'Stunt.' It's good to see you, Wire.”

“Naw, it's Henry nowadays. You, uh, staying long?” Rothesberger as he pulled up three mugs and filled them, his eyes darting around the room.

“I don't know. I'll probably move on as Newton does or I find some-”

“Newton?” Donovan interrupted. Stunt sighed and nodded.

“Listen, I don't know what they were talking about in Ghostwood when we met Otaia and Bugsight. You'll just have to talk to himself. I don't know what his past was, and I don't care. He saved my ass twice, so I stuck with him for a while. That's it,” Stunt insisted. Donovan nodded and found a table, and Rothesberger delivered their drinks.

“So how do you know Henry, Stunt?” Donovan asked. Stunt sighed and shook his head.

“We're just old friends from when I was younger. I don't want to talk about it.”

“Do you want to talk about ANYTHING?”

“No.”

“Donovan,” Otaia began, changing the subject began, “Have you ever met my master, Bugsight?”

“I've heard of him and what he did against the Chosen, but that's it, and the fact he's a Necromacer of an unusual sort,” Donovan replied.

“Oh, you'd love him!” Otaia exclaimed, and they began to swap stories and experiences. Stunt kept his attention focused on Rothesberger, who kept looking around the bar. His attention was broken when a little girl, around seven years old, walked into the bar and greeted the patrons. One of the wizards beckoned her over and showed her a trick with his magic, awing the child. Stunt snickered to himself. She reminded him of Lydia with her smile and laugh. She even sort of looked like her. Could his father have remarried and she was a new little sister? No, she was too old for that. Then-

“Oh, hell...” Rothesberger moaned as a young, blond-haired woman walked into the bar with meals and drinks. Stunt's eye twitched upon seeing her and he clutched her mug tightly. The tension did not go unnoticed by Otaia and Donovan who stared at the suddenly irate Stunt.

“Hey, Clara,” Rothesberger said. The woman smiled at him and was about to reply when Stunt's mug collided with his head. Henry fell to the ground and the mug smashed. All eyes were on henry as he stood back up.

“Stunt, what the-” Donovan stuttered, but Stunt's yell cut him off.

“SHE was here and you didn't say anything? You could have at least WARNED ME!”

“Stunt I didn't know what to say!” Henry yelled back.

“Calm down!” Otaia urged the raging thief, but Stunt slapped her away.

“And YOU! You brought me here without even asking me! You need to learn your place!” Stunt screamed. Donovan was just about to bring his fists down onto Stunt's head when Otaia kicked him in the crotch. And she was wearing hiking boots. Stunt gasped and fell to the floor in pain. Otaia stood and rubbed her sore cheek. There was a moment of silence.

“Donovan, aren't you going to make a joke?” Henry asked. Donovan shook his head.

“Sorry, I don't go that low,” the bard replied. Stunt moaned, “You just did...”

“Newton, do you go by any last name?” Miranda asked. Newton shook his head.

“I gave up on the only last name I had a long time ago.”

“Do you remember when you were created?” Dominic asked,a nd Newton reluctantly nodded.

“I don't remember much after I was almost destroyed by Dirk the Mighty. I do remember the nature of my creation, however. I am a golem, created from Boggarts and souls,” Newton explained.

“Why Boggarts?” one of the teachers asked.

“Because they change according to who is around them,” Newton explained, “I was created by an Archmage about a century ago. She'd lost her beloved, and hoped to bring him back using me. The time it cost to gather the materials were great, however, and when I was completed, she was an old, frail woman and instead of her love I took care of her as if she were my mother. And without her, I had no purpose. So I traveled.

“I came across the Chosen, who convinced me to join a higher cause. They soon realized that I was created from some of their members and helped me unleash my more powerful innate magic. At first I didn't know what it would do, but Helixa eventually told me. Back then I believed in the Chosen. I believed in their cause and the Storm and every bit of it. I used my magic to call the Storm of Souls to come faster and faster. But then Dirk the Mighty, the Sylvan Oracle, and a Dryad fought me, and defeated me once Rilian came to their aid. They almost destroyed me, and I know that they killed my body. But, being a Golem of souls and spirits, I was re-assembled. The Sylvan Oracle brought me to health. I had my memories, most of them anyway, but I wasn't the same person. I've made friends all around the country, and I thought that since the Deegans knew of me that they would at least know something.”

“Something for what?” Runcible asked. Newton smiled.

“Something to help me become human. If I had been destroyed, then the souls that were used to create me would have been released, and some are taken from the Chosen. Even now if I were destroyed, they would be released, and there is a risk that it might re-create the Storm of Souls. I knew that if I were destroyed it would happen, and now that I know the Storm is destroyed, I know that I must keep it from coming back. Even if there is no way to make me human, or even a more corporeal golem, the threat my very existence poses a threat. Outside of the Elves and Werewolves, who would just destroy me, this is the only place that can do anything about it.”

A silence overtook the room. Bugsight placed his hand on Newton's shoulder.

“I can supply a body. Fully functional, and not made out of anyone. Original materials. You can help pick out the looks.”

“The college has the materials to offer,” Cassafinn agreed.

“And I think I know who can help with the actual procedure,” Dominic added, “We're behind you, Newton.”
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Stunt and Friends
Everyone's favorite misogynist thief is back in his own adventure!

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