On a twist of fate, Amatu has to defend Wraithvine from racist jerks who hate Elves. Calls Wraithvine his sibling, and ends up in a fistfight, why waste magic on nonmagical bullies? -- Anon Guest
[AN: Check the tag "amatus-adventure" for further shenanigans]
There was a very crude sign outside of the village. It said, NOW NYFEERS. There was a semi-helpful frowny face with pointed ears on the placard, with a red X painted over it.
"If we go through quickly?" suggested Wraithvine. "They might not pay too much attention." This said to a group consisting of an Ogre, a Bugbear, a twelve-year-old with Draconic wings, and Amatu.
Amatu, the half-hellbred, half-angelborn child of prophecy and fate, who could stand out anywhere he went. "Do we have to go through here?"
"We do if we want to be in Paradise Mountain in time." Wraithvine tutted and rolled hir eyes, "Prophecies... I despise prophecies."
Though Amatu could fly, he could only carry one other person. Vee could only technically fly with a strong headwind to give her tiny wings some use. Neither would be able to get the entire party through Elysiavale in a hurry.
"I could carry you," said Pondermore. "Nobody argues with an Ogre. Not twice."
"Tempting, but no threats. We must at least try to be the nice ones. Friendly smiles, pleasant voices, and kind hands where invited. We go through with a minimum of fuss and bother. Please."
Though ze had the best of intentions, nothing beats those who are determined to hate.
The mob gathered as soon as the locals recognised the Adventurers as Others. Which wasn't long. Though they didn't have weapons, a mob didn't always need them.
The usual preamble and posturing ignored the usual targets of Amatu, Rawr, and Vee. They were all focussed on Wraithvine. Glib and calm though ze was, it did not take long for tempers to boil over, and fists to fly.
Amatu charged forward, knocking the three offenders down. "Don't you dare hurt my sibling!"
Pondermore scooped hir up and cradled the Wizard in her arms. "This is my friend," she menaced.
The mob parted like a miracle, and they were allowed to pass.
Wraithvine regained hir consciousness a mile away from the scene. "D'joo..." Ze blinked, attempted to focus. "Did you call me... sibling?"
"I learned what Hoenigh meant at the last big library. I'm still learning the proper Elven for the right word for you," Amatu dug out a small, thick book from his vest. "Elven is a very complicated language. Perhaps you could help teach me."
"Ah. 'Family found in boxers round.' That's what it meant." Ze winced. "I. Despise. Prophecies."
[Image by Quinn Buffing on Unsplash]
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