The Kalopsian Wave

(last year I was in a pathfinder campaign and my character would secretly write bad fan-fiction about the god she was a cleric of. I wrote several chapters and it still cracks me up. It never came up in the campaign so I’m sharing it here because I find it so funny. I might update as time goes on.)

CHAPTER ONE:

The blood tasted like cold iron in my mouth. 

“I think I’m going to need another drink” I spit through my broken lip. 

The brute in front of me staggered as he drunkenly threw another punch. 

Nimbly, I ducked under his meaty fist.

“Better luck next time” I quip

He roars in rage.

I don’t usually cheat at cards, but this guy deserved it when I saw him kick that beggars cup. 

Still, its my fault for getting caught. The drinks make me less subtle at my cheating. 

For the last few years I have been running around with the beggars guild. They liked having me around because I looked so plain and unassuming compared to other girls, with my high cheekbones, chestnut brown hair and one gold eye and one green. raised on a small farm with chickens and cows. Dirt poor and never considered that beauty was something I should strive for or even value as important. I always knew I was ugly and unlovable. 

His other fist connects with my jaw.

“It’s bad manners to hit a lady” I spit and he roars in rage. I dont even process the cosmetic implications at all.

I unsheath my dagger, prepared to take this to deadly territory.

The bar at this point has erupted into a brilliant brawl- fists and drinks flying everywhere. 

Good. I love the chaos.

I lunge to stab him, but out of nowhere a hand juts out and grabs my forearm.

“ I got this, gorgeous” 

GORGEOUS????

A flash of a grin and next thing I know a rapier is pointed at the brute’s throat. 

The interjector looked to be approximately exactly 6’2 with wavy dark brown hair. 

He had creamy tan skin and 3 pure gold hoops in his right ear, he smelled like fireplace, vanilla, and sharp tang of muscle. 

His face was obscured as he faced the brute, his broad and also lean back obscured my view.

For the first time in my fight my knees began to shake, the buckles on my beaten-up mismatched boots jingling like bells.

A hush fell over the room.

To my right I heard a halfling woman whisper “is that?… no… It can’t be… he hasnt been seen on this plane for hundreds of years.”

Who is this mysterious stranger and what would this halfling woman mean by that? 

My opponent, now the handsome stranger’s opponent, meekly gulps and raises his hands up, shaking in fear.

“Wh— wh—wh—who – who aa- aaa– aaa– are you???” he says.

I smell the acrid smell of piss pissing down the brute’s leg. 

“ you must not get out that much” smirked the sexy stranger “I am known in many places. If you don’t know me I wouldn’t dream of dignifying you with such an answer” 

The piss pools around the brute’s pissy ankle. 

“I suggest you leave this bar and change your ways. I hate bullies” smirked the stranger. 

The whole bar cheers-  I scrunch my fists up a little- only a little bit angry that Mr. Sexy stranger stole my herotic thunder.

The brute turned his fat ugly ass around and ran out the bar, everyone cheering and celebrating.

Angrily, I poke the stranger’s muscley  shoulder. 

“Now excuse me sir, who the FUCK do you think you are? I had that covered COMPLETELY!”

He turns on the heel of his boot, looking down into my one green eye and one gold with his two large chocolatey brown orbs. His long, luscious brown dark eyelashes sending a breeze onto my cheek as they flap the air when he blinks looking at me. 

He answers me with a wink “Me? Little Lady? You really dont know?”

TO BE CONTINUED…