More of Kevin's Mum and company, please. -- Anon Guest
Many Tieflings name themselves for what they want out of the world. As a starving child, he had named himself Abundance. It was what he valued most, and attained least. It was the change he wanted to write onto the world, and why he went following after a Druid to learn their ways. A little mistletoe can work wonders, perhaps miracles.
Abundance wanted that miracle now, subtly and not-so-subtly healing his leg whilst surrounded by maniacs. His sarcasm was evenly matched with the truth.
"What is this, an ancient prophecy?" / "Yes."
"Who do you think you are, fucking Wraithvine?" / "Pleased to meet you."
"So we just march in to the Undermountain and demand that the Lich King of Ages surrender?" / "Well, nobody's tried that before..."
Worse and worse, Wraithvine showed him exactly where his name came about in the prophecies. It was... disturbingly obvious to his eyes, now that it had happened. The hand of the killing blow finds Abundance, lock'd in trap of iron and laying curse upon the world. That hand shall change all fates with cloth of rainbows knit in place.
The only amusing part was that the prophecy repeatedly referred to Wraithvine as "the ancient fool".
"Would you like some mistletoe? I have lots," offered the kid with the bow.
"As long as you don't shoot it at me, I think I can abide with it," Abundance allowed. It was turning into quite the party. A hero foretold, a wizard, a thief, a weird, magical bowman and now... him.
Nobody had ever bothered about him before. Just last week, he had been looking for some new hides to turn into clothes and armour. Now he had an adopted mother plying him with good food, and making him a coat of many colours out of a bag that contained more odd ends than whole balls of yarn[1].
It was better than he was used to, but that was a low, low bar. Fifteen hells, he was already correcting his speech because of Ma Oxbrydl's angry glare.
These people needed a voice of reason and rationality. Gods help him, it was looking like he had to fill the post.
[1] Every knitting bag is like this.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Monic249]
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