Legend of Ransera

“Mask, what are you doing?”

The raccoon didn’t answer, it rarely did, ignoring the half-buried rider in the fur of its back. Ammy could only peer up over the creatures’ head to try and decipher what had caught its eye so strongly. Cases upon cases of human food and drink were being moved around by lots of Big Friends, and the Gemlings interest grew just as intensely as the mounts.

“Let’s go see!”

The words were the proverbial gunshot to the start of chaos. Mask lunged forward, too blinded by its trust in its owner and the promise of food to worry about the humans, Ammy too distracted by the scents coming from the box did not hold the reigns, and the Big Friend who saw the raccoon and promptly went on the offensive. The cane that swung out sent the raccoon fleeing, wildly rocking the side and launching the small Gemling off it’s back before disappearing.

As they flew through the air Ammy found themselves giggling at the short trip right before the wood of a box smacked into their head. Unconcerned the Gemling sat up, rubbing their head absently among the eggplant. No one seemed to notice them, too distracted with ensuring the raccoon was gone while they busied themselves digging around in the crate to see if there was anything else inside. A quick wiggle to the bottom proved unfruitful and boring since they couldn’t bite into the food to try it, but the sudden sensation of weightlessness again stilled them.

Big Friends were friends but they didn’t seem to like it very much when Ammy surprised them. They weren’t sure why, surprises were fun, and fun was always fun. Content, the Gemling decided to have another go at the eggplant, determined now to try it that they had the time. Right up until the crate was set into a new room, light and more noise distracting them as they crept up slowly to peer over the edge of the box.

Shocked delight is the only thing that kept a squeal from erupting at the sight before them. A plethora of new Big Friends things! Like an ocean just waiting for them and the first thing they wanted was the large cup. It was simply with a surface that warped their reflection into something grotesque and they knew that had to have it. With a cursory glance they slipped out of the box, uses the others on the counters as cover as they scurried over to the mug which was…far larger up close than it had been far away.

Hand on hip the Gemling accessed the mug until another reflection began to appear. With little grace they grabbed the sides and hoisted themselves into the cool colored mug. The softest of clanks as they hit the bottom, settling as ideas of taking the mug vanished in favor of staring at their reflection all through the mug. It felt like they stared forever and for like moments before liquid hit their head and quickly surrounded them, burying them in some strong-smelling liquid.

Ammy blinked at the sudden change, unable to reach up to grip the sides as the cup was sloshed around and moved. Two attempts and they stopped, instead beginning to splash about a bit in the liquid, a strange blurring of their vision that didn’t seem to be all liquid. It felt as if they were floating inside floating, and fuzzy! Again, the Gemling began to giggle finding it slightly easier to reach the rim of the mug now that it wasn’t moving. Or was it moving?

“Whats is…whats is…I’m in a cup!” Poking their head above the liquid to squint at whoever was in front of them, Ammy thrust out a finger. “This is my cup! My Collection cup!”

Keeping only their eyes and ears above the liquid like an alligator the Gemling sunk back down into the liquid happily. It was like a tiny pool of yummy tasting things all for them.

The city had proven to be everything as large and grandiose as he had expected out of it. Building upon building, each one stirring to life as their residents went back and forth between their places of rest and work and leisure. While he had mostly been keeping to himself, attempting to ascertain the exact nature of his existence in quiet contemplation and observing from his nigh empty home wherever possible, he did realize that abandoning all social interaction for the life of a recluse while still desiring to remain in close proximity to the services and goods of the city would make him a target of suspicion and likely lead to worse ostracism than simply going out from time to time.

Besides, while the language had inexplicably come to him the moment it had been spoken, he still needed to uncover the exact nature of the world around him, of the people who resided within Alfsos and how he would fit into it. Althalos had done the best he could to clean himself up after having awakened in the woodwork, covered in mud and grime and filth. His trousers still had a couple of grass stains upon them, but through hard work and tenacity, he had managed to scrub out most of the mess. He certainly didn't look like he'd never left his house before with all of the stains, either, and maybe people would just assume that he was a traveler freshly arriving.

Casting an eye at his various possessions, Althalos settled upon the rations that he'd recovered sitting in the corner of the room. The gentlest layer of dust was already beginning to collect on them from their lack of movement, perhaps accelerated by the subtle deterioration of the home's occupant. That thought caused him to stare at his fingers with revulsion, acknowledging that they were beginning to crack. Perhaps he would find a rag while he was out and bind them like a bandage to avoid any contamination. Could he even become sick? Could his wounds even develop fetidness?

Hunger stirred in him again, the pangs striking like a brick in his stomach, returned to focus by his brief analysis both of his own flesh and of the rations in the corner. Perhaps he would visit one of the local taverns, watch the people a little while, and enjoy a nice meal. Something tasteful would no doubt banish his appetite entirely, and lend him the peace and serenity he needed to focus on his work. Slipping a spoon into his pocket -- he wasn't sure if one would be provided, but wanted to be safe -- Althalos slipped free from his cottage.

Stepping into the Inn had proven to be altogether simpler than he had expected. No one glared at him as if though he were a walking corpse, at the least, and the presence of other Siltori -- a point which had been discussed in depth upon entry to the city -- in the area meant that he wasn't a total enigma in even that regard. Picking a seat in the corner of the room would've granted him the best vantage point of the room, but there was a certain stigma attached to it as well, and so instead he helped himself to a chair in the exact center of the room. If he twisted and turned about his chair, he could nearly see everyone in the establishment's lower floor.

Time passed as customers around him were served, and eventually, his own turn came, an expectant look given by the local barmaid. Althalos opened his mouth, realized immediately he hadn't a clue what he was going to actually order, and frantically forced a cough into his elbow, excusing himself from the burden of conversation for just a moment. Wary eyes scanned the room, taking notice of mugs filled with something that smelled even from here of spice.

"Yes, I'd like to have a mug of... He nudged his head in the general direction of the other table so as not to be rude.

"Beer?" She interrogated, an eyebrow raised at the seeming secrecy and ignorance surrounding his request, but polite enough not to press him on it too harshly.

"Right. Beer. One mug, please."

A curt nod and she was off to fetch the drink on his behalf. When finally it had arrived, he gave a sigh of relief, handing over the requested farthings for the product. Commerce, at the least, had been something he'd understood from the beginning. As she strode away, he scooped up the mug, intent of tasting the spicy elixir that had been brought before him. Of course, he was stopped 'dead' in his tracks when a tiny figurine of a being thrust their finger out of the liquid, deftly avoiding the subject of why it was even in the drink, to begin with, and laid a claim to the mug as a whole.

"Pardon? Are you... are you part of the drink? Well! He certainly wasn't going to drink something that could talk, was he? An eye filled with sudden disdain and revulsion stared at the other patrons before returning to the cretinous thing hiding submerged in his booze. Not wanting to be seen speaking to his drink -- he'd seen one other person do that tonight already and they hadn't gotten the kindest reception from others -- Althalos instead chose to gingerly reach into the cup with the use of his spoon, thankful immediately that he had brought it along. Utensil in hand, he set about the process of trying to scoop the interloper out of his drink.

“Yes!” Ammy burbled in response, sinking farther and taking the words as acquiescence to their claim. Big Friends were truly nice if they simply gave the Gemling things they wanted for their Collection. The cup had even come with such lovely liquid, like taking a bath that made them feel even more pleasant than after a good shed.

But the content feeling was only to last for moments—or years? It was really hard to keep track of time when underwater—before something smacked them right in the face. Confused the Gemling pushed at it but it pushed back! Smashing them up against the side of the mug and scraping them towards the surface.

“Heys! You—Oh! A spoon! I like spoons.”

And they certainly did. Right up until the spoon tried to toss them out of the mug. They had a blurred, swirling view of a white-haired Big Friend, a table, a ceiling, more Big Friends, and other weird melds of undecipherable colors before the situation took hold. They were being removed. Their soon-to-be collection piece might be taken by a spoon of all things.

“No! No! No! My mug, bad spoon!”

The Gemling gave one more shove before making a desperate grab for the rim, wrapping their fingers around it and refusing to let go. This mug clearly belonged in their Collection. It was shiny, had fun bathwater, and even came with a Big Friend. It had to be theirs. But the bathwater was no longer Ammys friend, their slippery limbs and toppled out to the table with a faint clink and plop.

Immediately they tried to stand but their balance was off. They toppled awkwardly, half laying on the table, legs struggling to remember what upright was. A disgruntled infant trying to stand as their hands made aborted grabbing motions to the cup.

“My mug! You…spoons is…is…is not Big Friends.” Ammy focused their gaze on the Big Friend attached to the spoon. “You—you give mug?”

The correlation between the mug, spoon, and the Big Friend in front of them would not process. The room barely did with is hazy lightening and fogged up designs. Like wet paint that had been smeared and would not settle in the Gemlings mind as they gave up trying to be upright and let their body relax onto the table. They rolled onto their back, eyeing the lights around them, maybe those should be in their Collection too!

In truth, Althalos was at a total loss of how he ought to proceed. He had done his best to dislodge the intruding individual -- it was evidently smart enough to respond to his questions and therefore not just an animal to be reported to the establishment's ownership -- but it was clinging to the edges of the cup with all of its minuscule might. There was a sort of childish innocence to its actions, though, even as it fought with the spoon sent to remove it from the mug. It spoke openly of how it enjoyed spoons, and later of how it no longer enjoyed spoons.

Eventually, through a greater deal of struggle than he had anticipated, the rocky entity was removed from the confines of the container and resettled beside it on the table. Already, the soaked figurine was wetting the wood below them, soaking it with the liquid attached to their form. He genuinely hoped that if anyone passed by after he was finished, they wouldn't think he was so incompetent as to have spilled his drink all over the table. It wouldn't do to be known as such a lightweight that he sloshed his first drink.

The little person grasped at the mug, the distance between them resulting in only fistfuls of air. Undeterred by the seeming deterrence of space, they kept on with their attempts, scrutinized heavily by the elf now that they could be more easily viewed. He had been correct in his understanding that he was dealing with some sort of living gemstone. It was not crude and granite-like enough to be rock, but it was evidently still hard to the touch if his spoon-removal attempts had taught him anything.

With halfway intelligent sentences, discernible, but only with effort, Althalos ascertained that they were requesting his assistance in returning them to the cup. Was this a plea for mercy on his part, or were they unable to recognize that he had been the one to remove them in the first place? Their constant mention of the evil of his spoon seemed indicative of a failure to process things properly. Actually, staring at them now, with their little limbs grasping for the cup and their pleading for its return, Althalos began to question if the little gem had gotten intoxicated.

Regardless... he couldn't rightfully drink the liquid now, could he? They had stirred around within it, and who knew where they had been with their obvious propensity for getting into places they shouldn't have been?

With an inaudible sigh -- he'd forgotten to suck in any breath for it, the corpse slid the mug back over to the little thing, offering a helping finger so that it could straddle atop the digit and then dive back into its place.

"How'd you get in there... thing? He chastised himself immediately for referring to it in such a crass way, but he hadn't had time to prepare himself for this type of interaction, and he didn't really know what it was he was facing. "I'm sorry. My name is Althalos, what is yours? Question after question bombarded the mind of the elf, but he waited patiently for the answers to his first two questions before pressing onwards. He wasn't sure just how 'coherent' this thing was and didn't want to confuse it with too many issues at once.

Distracted by everything as they had been, they’d almost forgotten what they had originally wanted. Blurrily Ammy stared at the finger then the mug, uncomprehending before they jumped up, still stumbling. The edge of the table seemed far too close and indeterminably far away but the unconcerned Gemling only stumbled toward the offered assistance.

“My mug! Big Friend is good friend!” Using Althalos finger like a diving board of sorts, then splashed their way back into the mug. Without the dangers of a spoon present the were content to lean on the rim, kicking their feet in the beer as if it were a small pool only for them. Though they looked directly at the white-haired Big Friend, it took several moments to comprehend they were talking to them. Another moment to decipher the words and try to formulate a response. And even then their words came out strange, punctuated with small bouts of delighted laughter at the sound of their own voice. “You…is you a…your hair white. I am, um…”

The Gemling trailed off and slipped momentarily under the drink entirely again, the colored liquid reminding them of a gem. Was this what it was like to be eaten? The thought came and went as the popped back up then shook their head. Drops of beer splattering as they began speaking again, words continuing to slur.

“Ammy. Me Ammy.” There had been more questions and they struggled to recall them before splashing in excitement when they did. “I hide. In mug. Mask dropped me. I to—tas—tasted purple Big Friend foods!”

It was hardly coherent and the Gemling hardly cared. They thought it was quite a reasonable explanation, and now they could demand their own answers. That was how Big Friends worked, wasn’t it?

“What you? Why have my mug? Why hair white? Are you Big Friend? Where you mug?” The question came off in rapid fire, a drunken bout of curiosity as they stared up at Althalos, eyes glued to the Big Friends face. All the while the happily sagged over the edge of the mug, the drink beginning to wobble with all the motion, feet still splashing bits of beer over the edges to spill across the tables surface. Ammy thought it was quite pretty when it caught the corner of their eye. A gem color river running over the surface, like puddles in rain. It almost stole their attention entirely until the Big Friends hair caught their eye again. So shiny and white—"I have hair for Collection?"

As they spoke their hand made grabby motions again, this time directed at Althalos hair, now trying to get out of the cup and reach the newest thing they desired.

For an instant, Althalos wondered whether the little intoxicated gem would acknowledge the presence of his finger and the usefulness it provided in their quest to re-enter the mug. Thankfully, it seemed to pick up on the hint eventually, just somewhat slower than he had originally envisioned. That mental slowness further proved to the Animated that he was dealing with a very simplistic individual, perhaps equal in intelligence to a young child or a mentally stunted adult.

It seemed happy enough to submerge itself into the mug anew, splashing about in the alcoholic substance with seeming abandon now that its arch-nemesis had been removed from the equation. Subtly, Althalos took hold of the spoon and slid it back into his pocket, ignoring the fact that it was still somewhat moistened by the alcohol, and relying on the hope that it wouldn't stain his trousers unduly. Though he had inquired as to the nature of the gem, it seemed unable to process what he had spoken, instead choosing to let him know that he was a good friend and that he had white hair.

An eyebrow raised half out of curiosity and half out of instinct on Althalos' face as he tried to discern whether the fascination with his hair had completely overridden any of his interrogatives. Down it went into the spicy liquid, submerged completely, leaving the corpse who let loose another sigh and cast a glance about the other patrons of the establishment. Thankfully, most of them seemed entirely too busy with their own conversations and issues to pay him much heed, but there were undoubtedly at least a couple who had noticed him talking to what appeared to be his drink. Or -- perhaps they had noticed the little critter after all and were mocking his inefficient handling of it.

Finally, returning from its brief trip to the bottom of the mug, the entity identified itself as 'Ammy'. He wondered whether the name had been taken from Amethyst, a brief corruption of the form of gemstone, or perhaps it was an abbreviation of Amelia. Regardless, he supposed Ammy would be an easy enough name to remember. It spoke of hiding within the mug, making it clear once and for all that it was not part of the normal composition of the drink, and answering the question once and for all of whether the other patrons were busy consuming living and intelligent beings.

With a few of his own questions answered, Ammy seemed content enough to begin her own interrogation. Question after question rained upon the ears of the corpse, each one nearly answered before another one was brought to his attention for consideration. Rather excitable little beings, weren't they? Quick to talk and to lose focus, he noted, running his tongue across his teeth in contemplation as he waited for her to conclude with her questionnaire. Finally, when it seemed like all of them had been given, he answered, trying to move quickly for fear of being drowned in a torrential downpour of addendums on the part of the gem.

"I am a Siltori." He answered with a degree of honesty, highlighting his biological race and not bothering with any of his recently acquired state of undeath. It was best not to reveal such things, he had concluded. "I paid for the mug of beer because I was thirsty. It was my mug because I paid." He reminded himself of the general mental quality of Ammy before continuing, "When people want to own things, they have to pay other people for them with money, or else they're stealing. Stealing hurts people's feelings." Of course, hurt feelings often made themselves known in beatings and imprisonment and corporal punishment, but that was a bit much for such an innocent and childish being.

"Siltori usually have hair like this, or similar." He continued, moving on to the subject of his silver locks. "I am big to you, and I've been nice to you. Am I a 'Big Friend', then? That seemed more like a question to be answered by the gem itself, but he supposed they were frazzled with all of the excitement and hadn't thought about waiting for their own brain to create answers. Did they even have a brain? "I'll have to get my own mug, and maybe something to eat when the barmaid returns. She'll be here in a couple of minutes, I hope." He was still hungry, after all.

The last question was a tad more difficult than he had hoped. Normally, it would be such a minor issue to hand someone a thread of hair, especially when they possessed so much. Yet, he was dead. His heart had stopped beating days ago, even when his face had flushed with unlife. His blood within his veins had probably corroded into something like rancid gelatin, and his lungs only drew breath when he remembered to force it for the sake of appearances. Could he regrow hair that was lost? Would the natural processes take over at all, or would every piece lost be one that was gone forever? Perhaps there could be a concession made.

"If any of my hair is caught on my clothes, then you can have it, but you can't pull any of them out, or you'll hurt me." There. Leave the work for Ammy, and protect himself against potential baldness in the process.

It would have been a blessing if the Gemling had waited until Althalos finished speaking but his questions only made their addled mind whir faster. Running on fumes as they kicked even faster, reaching out for the Big Friend even more. Their eyes were riveted to them and all the newness they offered with each answer. More things to know, maybe things to unknow, more questions that needed answers.

“What Siltori? Why Siltori? What Siltori do?” As he tried to explain that he paid for it Ammy nodded sagely. It was as though they understood but the moment he took a breather to answer their next set of questions they butt in again. “What is pay? Why—why it—”

The Gemling had to stop, their words blurring together into a mess of unintelligent gibberish right before they toppled the glass. Whatever they hadn’t drank or absorbed spilling across the table and beginning to run to the floor. The mugs saving grace being its handle that kept it from meeting the same fate. Unperturbed by the turn of events, Ammy lay for a moment, the ceiling and bright lighting holding them rapt before shook themselves off. Then they wobbled toward their cup, slumping over it in an attempt to lean as they tried to formulate their queries once more. They had so many but the flitting through their head at lightning speed. Too fast for their sluggish brain to truly capture.

They paid no mind to the mess they had made; even sober they might not have entirely understood the social faux paus for what it was. There was little Big Friend interaction for them before the farm. Following the last Big Friend had been insightful only in more thievery given Ammy never had managed to get close enough to question them. To them this was simply a thing that happened. Liquids went away on the ground all the time, there was no cause for concern.

“What is—is pay? Why hurt? Not hit. No, I no hit. Why hurt? Is you Big Friends?” Ammy parroted completely uncomprehending of what he was asking. Maybe sober they could describe what they knew as a Big Friend but it was even more abstract than normal. And the thought flew out the window as the shift in topic drew the Gemlings attention. They had never been where they were before, the Big Friend using words and terms they had never heard from the raccoons or the last Big Friend they’d followed. “Barmaid?”

It was said in a question and as much of a question as Ammy could form at the moment. Their focus shifting back to the mug and their attempts to situate themselves on it. But when he continued their head whipped around to face them.

“Has?! I get shiny hair?! Hair hurts? Big Friends lots of hurts.”

They tried to articulate they thought but words were slippery and strange. Foreign on their tongue and hilarious every few seconds when peals of laughter escaped between the flurry of their interrogation.

It was becoming increasingly clear to the Siltori that considering Ammy to be akin to a child was perhaps more accurate than originally intended. Instead of sitting quietly and accepting the outpouring of information that he was providing, she continued to bounce from question to question, including truly nonsensical ones such as 'why' he was a Siltori at all. Had they had no parenting whatsoever to teach them the proper method of communication? Actually, he wasn't entirely sure that he had received any sort of education either. There was really no accounting for his determination to speak in the way he did, and perhaps there wasn't a reason for the gem to speak that way either.

His attention was snapped back to the physical form of the creature when it managed to topple the remainder of his drink to the floor, ruining it completely and causing quite the scene in the process. Althalos didn't bother to look around the remainder of the establishment, feeling the boring of their eyes upon his cold skin without needing any visual evidence to support the hypothesis. Naturally, Ammy seemed entirely unconcerned with their course of action, focusing their attention instead on the different bright and fanciful things that they could lay their vision upon.

Any moment now, the barmaid would be by to see what all the fuss was about, probably hauling a couple of thuggish looking locals with her. They'd ask him to leave, and he'd have to find somewhere else to seek his meals and association. All thanks to the presence of the little miniature cretin they'd brought along in his mug which refused to learn anything whatsoever about the world around it, despite the curiosity which seemed to have overtaken every aspect of its mental faculties.

Actually -- he thought, a sudden inspiration buzzing through his rotting brain. Perhaps there was a way to exempt himself from the ostracism that he so expected to follow him. The arrival of the barmaid happened to coincide rather conveniently with their sudden appearance at his table, not quite upset looking, but clearly not satisfied with the spillage that had taken place. That was to be expected; this was a bar, and people almost certainly spilled drinks on a regular basis, but that didn't mean they had to be happy about it.

Opportunity presenting itself to him as a gift from an unknown deity, Althalos slid his hand across the table, setting the mug upright, and gently nudging Ammy in the process so as to draw attention to it. Not bothering to try to decipher whatever fascination the miniature being had gained with his hair, he instead focused his whole attention on the barmaid, allowing a dissatisfied frown of his own to crease his lips in the process. "I'm not quite certain why you've brought this to me, but it's starting to cause a bit of a mess." He began, thrumming his fingers upon the table in the rough direction of the Gemling.

"Brought it to you?" She questioned, obviously unaware of the circumstances surrounding the thing's arrival.

"Brought it to me. It was inside of the mug you served me. I thought it was some sort of joke?" He raised an eyebrow, highlighting that he wasn't entirely certain of his question himself. "I guess it could just be a pest that slipped into your stocks, though?" He offered as a highly charged alternative. Admitting that anything had managed to slip into their drinks meant that their security was exceptionally lax, and it threatened the hygienic standards of any eatery. After all, who knew what else could be skulking around the place?

The way she glanced back towards the main bar as if requesting help was nearly palpable. This situation was out of her paygrade, even if she could give him an answer. "Regardless, I think 'Ammy' here: That's it's name, would be more than willing to help clean up the mess and pay off the drink for me." He smiled with as much sincerity as he could muster, pushing himself away from the table in the process. "I'll try to be back tomorrow for another drink. Maybe fewer living things in the cup would be nice."

The farthings he had already paid were a lost cause, and he wasn't about to make a scene trying to get a refill. That being said, it had become increasingly obvious that dealing with Ammy's hijinks would only serve to incriminate him in the process. Leaving it in the hands of the barmaid made it their responsibility, and exonerated him from the social faux pas of spilling his very first drink all across the table. Almost as an after-thought, he reached a hand into his pocket, passing a single farthing to the Gemling. "That's money, Ammy. You can use it to buy things you like instead of taking them. Remember what I told you... stealing won't work out well for you."

His final warning delivered, he prepared himself to return to his home, his stomach still rumbling with an uncanny hunger.