Fish Stew and Figgerin'

Faolan shifted his weight, tensing and relaxing his muscles to avoid stiffness. He’d been crouching, unseen atop this ramshackle structure for almost an hour, watching Tanner slave away on whatever manner of contraption that was below. As Faolan stared down at the strange little man who’d become his best friend, he again suppressed the desire to chuckle. After yet another week of training and wenching, Faolan wanted to sleep for a month, but Tanner couldn't resist his urge to tinker with...whatever that thing was.

As Tanner brought his hammer up again, Faolan broke into raucous song. The thud of hammer against flesh, the yelp of pain, and Tanner’s string of curses told Faolan that his timing, as usual, was perfect. He leapt down to the weathered tarstone to greet his friend, knowing "Books" wouldn’t hold a grudge...at least not against him.

“Well met, O mighty maker of monstrosities! How are you doing today!”

“I’d be a lot better if every whore-hopping minstrel in the Frontier didn’t keep interrupting me”, Tanner said with a stern look that slowly broke into a grin. “I had figured that there was still enough ale in town to keep you occupied.”

“Nah, I had to come out and look in on you.” Faolan held up the string of gutted fish that he had spent the last few hours catching. “You’d forget to eat if someone didn’t remind you now and then.”

Knowing this to be true, Tanner wiped his permanently stained hands on his greasy leather apron, and walked over to where Faolan had set to working up some manner of fish and onion stew.

As the stew cooked, Tanner drained the first of what would be several jugs, animatedly telling Faolan of his most recent work with the Salamander, Sunfire, and a new war machine he’d been reading about. He was proud to display his new tatoo, which prompted Faolan to remind him to stay clothed around mages...except for Bexar of course. This led Tanner to blush, stammer, and drink a lot more.

Faolan, never one to let an opportunity to torment his friend pass, advised, “If you don’t get ahold of that gal soon, she’ll end up somebody’s plaything, somebody’s prisoner, or dead along the Tarstone road. Samson acts like he don’t give a shit, but it’s gotta be eating him up how she’s strutting around, calling herself Tazzo and looking for trouble. I think she’s just itching for you to----”

“Speaking of trouble,” Tanner said, eager to change the subject, “What sorta trouble you got us lined up now...another one of your great trips to Hell maybe?”

“I don’t know what we’ll do next. Something’s bound to shake lose with the Gents all worked up over who to kneel before. I’ll give’em a reason to get on their knees”, Faolan laughed. Suddenly somber, he said “I imagine that Miss Macon’ll want to send us up to be seeing after Annie, unless Jake brings her back first. Now, I’m not saying that I won’t do that, and Robb knows I’d love to see her again, but I don’t mind telling you that I’m a bit hesitant to go back up North. We might end up stuck in one of those big cities, with all them big buildings and books---”

“Don’t sound so bad to me”, interjected Tanner. “I hear tell that ole Gahanna has the biggest damn library in North Anglia. I could handle spending some time up North. I'd bet I could find a lot of books to buy, too. Worner was telling me about this book he saw once in Sawyerville……….”

As Tanner went on, Faolan relaxed, listened, and thought thoughts of riding North, and the blue eyes that would be watching for him.

Tags: Adventures, Side Stories