Several carts had broken, thus causing the circus to come to a halt a mere day outside of their next destination. Options were not good. Carry the circus to their field by relay, overload the existing wagons and carts and hope no more breakages happened, or send someone ahead to fetch a cartwright and take a hit to the Bail Fund.

While they camped and argued, hardly anyone noticed La’ming ‘borrowing’ a horse to head into the plentiful town of Highmarrow.

Not until lunchtime, when Lulu and Koko had made lunch and entertainment together in the chuck wagon, when they noticed that their adopted mother was conspicuous by her absence.

“LIsten, see. We got some horses that ain’t got carts to pull. We can load them up and load up the people as much as can,” said Borstok. “Our strong man can lift two hundred pounds.”

“Lift, yes,” countered Montgomery. “Carry… not so much. You can lift one hundred and fifty pounds. Can you carry it far?”

“Monty…” said Koko.

It was the note of worry, rather than the nickname, that caught Montgomery’s attention. Koko was generally cold to others and paranoid about everything. Anything he could laugh off, the circus could work around. Therefore, anything that made him show concern was a sure indicator of something gone or was about to go seriously bad. “A moment,” said Montgomery. “What’s happening, Koko?”

“Our mo– La’ming’s gone missing,” he said, twiddling with the ties of his tunic. His luume-influenced adoption by the Sea Elf performer hadn’t been the smoothest. He and his sister were “only a few decades” away from being officially adults. That little verbal stumble was actually a good sign for Koko.

“Missing,” Montgomery repeated.

“She took our horse and left a note,” Koko handed it over.

It read, Gone for cartwright, you kids stay good. Should be back by lunch. And a scribbled heart and her signature.

“It’s way past lunch,” Koko added. “I know we’re still fighting over the next step, but… Maybe some humanmen could go lookin’ or something?” He stopped twiddling and straightened himself. “Not that I care or anything. It’s just that The Mermaid’s one of our biggest draws an’ we just got a Major Restoration on her ears ‘n’ shit…”

A gift that resulted from the twins running hustles over the last five towns. La’ming had been overjoyed while the twins downplayed it at every opportunity. The kids were of the opinion that no Elf deserved to have their ears docked. La’ming was of the opinion that she had the best kids in the universe -nay, in the planar system, and twitched her ears about just because she could.

…ears that she sometimes forgot to hide or disguise when going into new towns.

“Oh shit,” Montgomery muttered. He rushed over to the largest cluster of Humans in their impromptu camp and interrupted their bickering with, “One of our own has gone missing in or around Highmarrow. It’s Ms Ton, so go asking after the horse without making it sound like she’s stolen it, thankyou. I need word of what’s happened to her.”

*

The downside of places like Saint Vingo’s was that some of its dirty secrets got passed around. La’ming couldn’t blame her babies for passing on the curses of its spells on to the future incarcerators of Administrator Citron. Not even when such spells had been passed around enough to use on her.

Currently, her captors had her trapped in Citron’s Malevolent Sensory Deprivation. She was blind, deaf, and incapable of feeling anything. It could drive a being insane to be without any kind of sensory input at all. She couldn’t even hear the rhythm of her own body.

Koko, on the rare occasions that he spoke about what he endured under Citron’s heel, had said that when he gave up on screaming and struggling, the spell would lift and his senses would return. Sometimes, he was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion when that happened.

Now she could understand why. That spell was terrifying.

Light, sound, and feeling returned, and she was in a cage. Facing down the impassive and incredibly ugly face of Lybirti Sor. Her former owner/handler. Her former master.

“You got old and fat,” she said, and winced at the sting in her newly-restored ears.

“You don’t talk unless you call me master,” he said. “You behave yourself and life’ll be good for you again.” By which he meant, do as he said, fawn, simper, and let him have his way, and he might give her enough to eat every day and not hit her so much.

“Fuck you,” she said. She had enough time to hiss at the blistering pain in her ears from Citron’s Blazing Correction before Sor sent her back into the cloying darkness of sensory deprivation. She relaxed and let the spell dissipate so she could say, “Fuck you with the rough end of a pinecone.”

She had to stay sane, keep Sor off of her, and survive long enough to figure out a way to get back to her babies. She didn’t care if her new ears burned to cinders, she would fucking kill this guy.

No matter how often she returned to the world of feeling in tears. No matter how hoarse her throat. No matter how often the fine webs of her ears seared with her every show of resistance. She. Was. Going. To kill him.

*

When the circus descended on Lybirti Sor, it was not the Humans alone who came with weapons drawn and threats ready on their lips. A good two thirds of the circus came for him. Orcs, Elves, Dragonborn, Changelings… all the heaviest hitters. And three glass cannons in the form of Lulu, Koko, and Mak’arune.

The Orcs punched the shit out of him, the Dragonborn scorched him with their breaths, the Changelings confounded him as they stabbed him with their blades. Montgomery got a bite in before the twins freed La’ming and Mak’arune healed her blisters.

The two Elven children gave La’ming a choice. Wand or Blade. One offering per twin.

She picked up the wand from Lulu, accepted an ingredients pouch from Koko, and drew a bead on her former captor. Three deep breaths as the rest of the team stepped back from the bloody and bruised form of Lybirti Sor. La’ming chose her spell. She said, “Abra-ka-fuck you!” and cast Cloud of Daggers directly in the area where Sor was kneeling and begging for mercy.

La’ming watched him die with an impassive face, then ran off to be sick behind the nearest tree.

Lulu, Koko, and Mak’arune ran after her, not caring to go through Sor’s pockets for anything valuable. Fortunately, Borstok was there to make up for that lack.

It was quite the scene. La’ming retching bile as she clutched at the tree while three Elves swarmed, trying to soothe her. Lulu and Koko knew the effects of those spells well. Too well. They knew what those spells had done to them. Intimately. They knew what the aftermath of facing a captor was like.

“Deep breaths, now,” said Koko. “Breathe in the clean air. Feel it in your lungs. You know it’s over. It’s over for good. You got ‘im.”

Lulu, a step ahead in the logic processes, had realised that it was their actions who had hurt their adopted mother. She was weeping as she attempted to comfort La’ming. All she could say was variants of, “I’m sorry,” over and over again.

Mak’arune fussed with draping La’ming with her shawl and some petticoats and rubbing whatever handy portion of La’ming’s body was close by whilst rattling through all the herbal remedies and simples she could make with whatever herbs she could spot at the moment.

Koko was the one who slipped La’ming his pipe and some dried dandelion. Nobody had a single word of objection.

The circus arrived at Highmarrow a day late, with freshly-repaired wagons and two acts currently out of commission. Technically three, if one counted the Conjoined Twin Act, which was a combination cooking show, fake freak exhibit, and catering. Those placards were stowed in one of the moving carts as a small family of Elves cuddled together in the Big Hammock.

It lay strung between La’Ming’s caravan - the one she shared with the twins - and Mak’arune’s, which she inherited from La’ming. It was big enough to hold ten adults, which meant that La’ming, the twins, and Mak’arune were all cuddled together in it with as many pillows, blankets, and throws as they could cram into its voluminous folds.

Montgomery checked up on them occasionally and brought them meals.

There was an assortment of purrs within the cluster. Loud, soft, and stressed, though it would take an expert to tell who was making which kind of purr. As long as they were purring, Montgomery rationalised, they were on their way to being okay.

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to drag his wife and youngest all the way to their next destination for some emergency counselling. Exandria never travelled well, the poor sweetheart.

In the late afternoon, an almost unnatural hush from the Elven huddle prompted Montgomery to carefully excavate his way through the encompassing blankets to investigate. Encountering a mildly hostile Koko prompted him to stop.

“Boss or not,” Koko whispered, “You wake our moms and I’ll magic missile your fucking tail off.” Just visible nearby were the cuddling, slumbering forms of La’ming and Mak’arune.

Montgomery wisely decided not to call any attention to Koko’s Fantasy Freudian Slip.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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Challenge #02194-E365: Won Family by Combat

It’s the nice, sweet, quiet ones that never argue that you should be afraid of. – Anon Guest

They thought the Human was docile. Quiet and apologetic, they assumed that they had been ‘trained’. The Human certainly acted that way. Always eager to please. Always nice to the point of being excruciating. They thought that Human Zie would never be violent.

They were wrong.

The thing about Humans is - even the soppiest milquetoast has their line in the sand. The point at which no more shit will be tolerated. At that point… all bets are off. For Human Zie, that point was seeing an abusive guardian in one of the Edge Territory markets. Needless to say it was more than a shock for her Thufei crew to see hir charge at another Human and lay them flat with one punch.

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Taako stumbled out of bed to make his morning dose of caffeine to find that about a dozen Gnomes were inhabiting the Aga. Three of them were cooking, but the rest were examining the entire rig.

Thank the gods that the coffeemaker was on a tall shelf out of their immediate reach. “Somethin’ I can help y'all with, my dears?” He set the kettle onto a hotplate.

“Where are the controls?” said a spokesGnome. “What if we want to make it faster?”

“Listen,” said Taako. “It’s an Aga. It doesn’t have controls. It has specific heat areas. If you want fast food, my sister’s pretty zippy on the old hotplate. I cook cuisine, my friend. That’s worth the wait.”

The Gnomes all looked at each other. There was a small conference.

“We could make it so you could hard-boil an egg in less than a minute,” they offered.

“Sure, you could,” Taako said. “But it would be the shittiest hard-boiled egg you’ve ever eaten. Trust a five-star chef. Some ovens don’t need min-maxing.”

“By the way,” said one of the Gnomes at floor level. “You might want to at least put undies on when you’re out in your nightshirt. The view from down here ain’t complimentary.”

*

There apparently was a coffee room, now. Lup squinted at the machine dominating three quarters of it and mumbled, “Izzat our coffee machine?”

“What is it with you Elves and not wearing underwear?”

“It’s fuck off inna morning. Coffee before pants,” Lup yawned and stretched. “D’z that make coffee or izzit gonna go boom?”

“One way to find out!”

“Millennia-old tree house, babe…”

Too late. The lever thrown, the machine rumbled into life with the kind of bass thrum that makes a body uncomfortable with its place in the universe, especially considering the relative distances between itself and the closest privy.

Steam hissed. Gears ground. Water bubbled through a percolator. A distinctive smell issued forth as a liquid black as night poured into a carafe.

Lup shambled towards it. “Coffee…”

“Uh. You might wanna be careful, that’s Gnomish coffee.”

Lup chugged down a cup. “HELL-lo! That’s got some fuckin’ KICK!”

Concerned Gnomes stared at each other. “You sure you’re all right, there, dear?”

“YEAHI’MFINE, THANKSFORASKING, I’MGONNAGOPUTONSOMECLOTHES, ANDGETTHECOBWEBSOUTTATHERAFTERS. WELL. TALLCEILINGYPARTS. HEYBARRYYAGOTTATRYTHISSHIT, IT’STOTALLYBOMB!”

Barry, by comparison, was only wearing underwear and wisely watered his coffee down by a significant portion. “I’ll get her to help shape the new branches. That aughta help her calm down.”

“Y- She’s immune…?”

Shrug. “As immune as an Elf can get. Century with each others’ coffee can get you used to anything.”

*

“I want to see my baby girl,” cooed Agatha.

“Here she comes,” said Tilwyn Strongburrow.

Ella laughed and gurgled, kicking in anticipation. For her and her alone, it would be completely normal to have a half-Elven co-mother as part of the family. There would be comfort and security in a half-Elf’s arms and rest achieved by the steady purr.

She alone would find it perfectly normal to be nuzzled by creatures twice her size, and have siblings that weren’t related to her at all.

It was the rest of the family that would have to get used to cuddle puddles in or out of a cote made for the purpose.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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“Listen,” Taako had explained. “It’s the last place they’d look because it’s the first place anyone would look. I got my wards refreshed and nobody is entering the grounds without prior permission. Hell, even the delivery guy knows to use the mailbox of translocation.”

It was with that moment that Agatha knew that all her other objections would be trampled over in the same rough-shod manner. The Treehouse, as the extended family called it, was Taako’s country retreat. He paid some locals to look after the place when he was off doing other things and, as near as Agatha could tell, it was still a fixer-upper.

Lightning had hit the upper branches at some point and shapers were still coming by to train the wild limbs into something like the tree’s original state. Just as others were re-training the wilderness of the estate grounds into the farm it used to be. All things considered, re-taming the riding deer was easy-going.

So far, only the three lowest levels had been modernised. The whole place was a work in progress. Labyrinthine, too, with hundreds of ways to escape and confusing passageways that took years to memorise. In other words, typical Elven architecture when the entire species was used to Elfism cropping up every three hundred years or so.

Taako’s cats took to it like ducklings to water, vanishing into the Elven Air Vents and hunting down vermin like they’d been born there. Agatha, on the other hand, had her doubts. Especially now that Taako was threading a grass bracelet with a wooden bead onto her wrist. The bead was Hazelwood, a common arcane channeling material, and a sigil had been inscribed onto the plain tan bead.

“What the fuck is this?”

“This is sort of adopting you into the family,” said Taako. “New children to the house get these. The wards won’t attack you, and if you’re scared, the willow lights will lead you to a place of comfort and security.”

“Willow. Lights.” Agatha repeated. “I’m sorry, Taako, but I’ve never heard of willow lights.”

“Think of your Uncle Fuckup for five seconds.”

His actual name was Phandro, and he was a powerful enough crime lord to strike at Agatha from within prison. Which was why she was in hiding in the first place. As her heart rate accelerated, a small, friendly-shaped form faded into existence. Beckoning her towards one of the many nooks in this house.

“How do you think the legends of will o’ the wisps got started? You better follow it before it sounds an alarm to your in loco parental.”

Agatha followed it to a comfy nook that lit up as she entered. Cosy pillows and comfort food and a little commode space and, once Taako showed her, the knowledge that there was a secret way out. She relaxed and the willow light winked out.

Taako was grinning. “We’re still restoring most of the old place, so the higher you go, the more likely it is you’ll find guarderobes and cobwebs and expired runes.”

“Why are they called ‘willow lights’?” Agatha asked, grasping for the straws of distraction. “This tree’s a Mountain Ygdrasi.”

“You already know the answer, you just want a conversation to keep your mind off things,” said Taako, seeing right through her. “Don’t worry about it. Our husbands are on the case and half the family is backup. We won’t even have to worry about where you can squeeze through.”

Because she was also five months pregnant with her first kid. Taako kept insisting it was twins despite ample evidence to the contrary. A family goof. “Yeah. A long, boring conversation about Elven history is just what I need to go to sleep right now.”

Taako summoned an Invisible Servant to bring a proper meal for her (all the healthy things, of course) and started regaling her about the long, proud history of Elven kind. Starting with how the first tribe-houses were willows, owing to their proximity to clean water.

Agatha was out like a light before she was quite done with dessert.

A sudden siren woke her. It was dark and the only light  came from the runes. Mismatched eyes glowing in the gloom were open in panic. “Down the hatch, Aggie. They’re here.”

Agatha didn’t waste time arguing. She pressed the little hidden trigger that opened the hidden hatch. This particular passage was made for elderly Elves and thus made to accomodate a lowered dexterity score. She was grateful for that, and the beckoning figure that lead her through twisting passages.

She could hear random sounds. Voices of her family. Spells firing off. Agatha crawled faster through the twisting tunnels. Finally emerging in a cobweb-ridden cavern that had its own ululating howl. The only light was from the willow light and her bracelet. Carved figures in the walls scowled at her and unseen beasts skittered in the darkness.

“Intruder!” A ghostly Elf manifested out of a statue. “Intruder!”

Behind them was Uncle Phandro. He had a crossbow. Agatha tensed…

A loud rumble shook the entire place. An impossible rumble, because it was Taako purring and gently shaking her. “Hey. Hey, Aggie. Hey. Hey. You’re okay. It’s okay. It’s just a dream. Come on back.”

There was a willow light jiggling up and down above her. Saying something in Elven that could have parsed for ‘intruder’ in Common. It faded out as she came back to reality. The runes glowed around her, and Taako turned up the fairy lights that gave the midnight darkness more shape.

“You with me now, Aggie? Know where you are?”

“I’m in the safe cote. I’m safe with you. That… that was a nightmare.” She couldn’t let go of Taako, just yet. Her fingers dug into his hair and clothing and flesh alike. She couldn’t stop shaking. She couldn’t stop crying.

Taako rubbed her back as he purred. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s just a dream. You’re safe. Krav and Agnes are safe. Maggie and Merlot and Lup and Barold are out hunting them all down. It’s good. It’s good.” He disengaged one of her hands and guided it to a soft shape in the darkness. Neopolitan, the cuddle slut cat. She, too, started purring up a storm as Agatha flexed her fingers in the cat’s fur.

Neapolitan started kneading Agatha’s thigh, and little is realer than a cat making biscuits in squishy portions of one’s anatomy.

Taako held her long past the point where she stopped shaking, stopped crying, and stopped breathing so raggedly.

“I think I’m awake for a few more hours, yet,” she sighed. Think you’ll let me in your kitchen for eggs the safe way and some steak?”

“And some non-caffeinated tea,” added Taako. “Hot tea always helps you chill.”

The lights came up to pre-dawn levels of imitation twilight. It was fuck-off in the morning and the cats had the run of the house. The hearth made for cauldrons had been replaced with a Fantasy Aga that ran off the methane from the root system septic tank that also fed the tree. Nothing was wasted.

A cat or two had to be ousted so Taako could begin putting on the kettle and heating up a frypan. The warmth, the cats, and the gentle sounds of another being helped ground her. That, and the sensations of a McDonald-to-be kicking the living spit out of her liver.

Taako lit a few more lamps and warm light began to colour in an ancient kitchen. Generations of Elves had once cooked here. There was even a nook by the chimney for babies and sickly children to be near their parentals as they busied themselves with food. One of the near-feral cats had taken it over for her kittens.

Taako pressed a warm muffin into her hands while he prepared everything else. This was his way of showing love. Food, nicknames, and physical closeness. Agatha soaked them all up and returned his casual caresses with some of her own.

Just like the feral cats that lived here before Taako moved in, she too was being tamed. She, too, was getting used to a parental figure who was gentle and caring and, though a little broken in his own way, actively trying to be better every day.

“I’ve decided,” she said as Taako clattered about with eggs and kettles and frypans and teapots. “I’m going to try and be like you and Kravitz. You guys are way better parents than mine ever were.”

Taako “got something in his eye” for twenty whole minutes after that announcement. “Silly meldanel,” he said. “Makin’ me get stuff in my eye.”

Agatha decided not to tell him that she knew what that meant. He wasn’t ready, yet. All the same, it felt nice to be part of a better family.

[AN: Meldanel - “beloved daughter”, thanks to elfdict.com]

Challenge #02075-E251: Safe Hide — Steemit

First impressions are a son of a bitch, sometimes. When one gets the moniker of “the Merciless” tacked on to one’s name, certain expectations abound. You know the ones. Black leather. An easy hand with a weapon designed to inflict pain rather than kill. A mountain fastness full of minions and an optional beautiful daughter. That sort of stuff.

You never expect a shining Paladin whose chosen deity is the Goddess of life and creation. And I certainly never expected to meet him in his worst moment. Nor had I expected to meet him in mine.

He was battered, bloody, and captive. Our pack leader thought to ransom him for much gold, and then kill him. And the people who showed up to pay it. I thought that was a recipe for inevitable failure, but that’s why I was having my worst day. Gnolls are famous for having low intelligence scores. Less than stellar wisdom. They are the toadies and expendable stupid guards of the world. Not me. I thought about things. I asked questions. Too many questions.

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Challenge #02056-E232: Fudged-Up Normal — Steemit

There’s a phrase I’ve come to know well over the years. I couldn’t repeat it in full before I turned sixteen, but the unedited version is “fucked up normal”. As in, that’s fucked up, but it’s normal to the person experiencing it. Like - I spent my early childhood thinking that you got a window view for your birthday. Or ‘health care’ involved getting a gummy vitamin if you were good that day.

That stopped after I met my Godfather. But that’s a different story. This story is how I learned that my adopted family was a crime syndicate.

My 'normal’ had changed the day after Guido the Knife found me huddled in a doorway on one sleet-filled spring morning. I had a window view every day, and hot meals three times a day, and the softest, comfiest, warmest bed, and good, clean clothes. Every day. I used to call my Godfather 'Santa’ because I honestly believed he was Santa Claus in disguise.

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Challenge #02048-E224: Small Miracle in a Bathhouse — Steemit

So many miracles happened in Wraithvine’s wake. But then, one could expect that sort of thing from an actual wizard. For a start, Wraithvine could make a gesture and everyone would not see her as a Kobold any more. They would see a Halfling, or a Gnome, or a Dwarf, or an Elven or Human child. It was so good that it even fooled Thief when she saw a mirror in a shop.

Wraithvine insisted on trying names on for size. As a ragged patch who looked like a child, they tried ‘Waif’, which was close enough to a description that it fit Thief. As a Gnome, she became Dawn. As a Dwarf, Agate. And finally, when she looked like a Halfling, she was called Tinglerang. But that didn’t stop Thief from looking at her true reflection and still thinking of herself as Thief.

But baths? Thief could really get to enjoy baths. Baths, soft beds, and quality ale. These were the things that were the most miraculous to Thief. That and not being shot at for walking down the street. Thief… felt happy. And that was a big deal for her. And still, this functionally immortal wizard wanted to give Thief her fondest and sincerely humble dreams.

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Challenge #02000-E176: Biorhythm and Blues — Steemit

If there is one thing more annoying than a morning person, it is a morning person who is at peak sunniness in the pre-dawn hours. Four in the morning becomes four in the fucking morning with extra singing.

To his credit, Barry knew that his fellow shipmates liked to lie in, especially the most wonderful woman in the multiverse - Lup. His main squeeze. His snuggle-buddy. His absolute light of his life and his reason to continue despite the better part of a century’s worth of death, revivification, disappointment, and just… watching worlds die, year after year after year.

Therefore he at least tried to keep his volume down in the wee small hours. Tried being the operative word. There are some feelings that just cannot be contained and the joy of love is one among them. Another is abject terror, which he will be experiencing shortly.

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Odd Numbers

Nothing lasts. Taako knows this as an Elf who has lived over 150 years. But the things he fears losing? Those have assumed expiration dates.

Taako freaks out over past patterns in his history and his family is there to help him get over it.

He Reminds Them - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

I burp, a short fic comes out :D ;)

Another found family thing. Ango has more parents than he believes.