Today’s snippet, titled “Oh, Guano!”, is a piece I wrote about an NPC in my Pathfinder Campaign (sort of the “King Maker” adventure path). The intention behind this was to illustrate events occurring in the world, but away from the PCs. They’re supposed to be writing their own pieces about actual in-game events. We shall see if any materialize.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Feodyr sighed.
      Ain’t fair. Me being stuck here minding the girls when the others are out there. Even Hobie got to go and that bunny-chaser has a bum leg! He stuck a stick into the dirt, tracing patterns idly. What good is he gonna be, hunting and finding food? He couldn’t even notice a snake’s nest when he was standing in it! And now he’s out there, sick as a goblindog, all shaky and sweaty. What good is that?
      With a another sigh, Feodyr realized he had answered his own question. He was no good out there, helping the others, but Hobie would not have been any good to the girls if something found them in the little cave.
      Take last night, for instance. Genny had woken up crying. At first everyone just ignored her, for she had cried a lot since Murfree’s Town’s burned. Especially after that snake spooked the big horse and spilled Hobie and Genny into the dirt, where Hobie landed on Genny and broke her femur. And after Gavriil and Lexi and their friends left them here in this little cave while they went to see if they could get some vengeance on them Hobgoblin bastards, a whole flock of blood sucking bats had attacked in the night. Boy, had Genny cried then! She hated rodents and bats were just rats with wings.
      Ms. Katya had been pretty good at killing the bats, and Petyr and Ivan, too. They were probably off now, killing rabbits for supper, or maybe even hunting a boar. Boy oh boy, what I wouldn’t give for a big ol’ piece of cracklin’ right now!
      Feodyr heaved another sigh and sniffed the air. The only thing he could smell besides, smoke and feet, was bat guano.
      “Gross,” he muttered.
      “What’s gross, Feodyr? Hey – do you think they’ll be back today? Lexisha and Gavrashka and Ra-sha and-”
      He silenced Rosy with a single glowering look. “‘Course they will, or tomorrow. They promised.”
      Chagrined, she tucked her knees beneath her and spread her skirt, an ugly, dirty, tattered thing, over her lap. He watched as she smoothed it down with her pretty, graceful fingers, then clasped her hands together. “You are right, of course,” she said, her soft voice hardly louder than a whisper.
      Feodyr dropped his shoulders, feeling like a donkey’s butt.
      “I’m sorry, Rosy, I shouldn’t have snapped at you that way.” He was rewarded with a smile and Rosy glanced up at him briefly. Feodyr was surprised to notice that her eyes were not blue, as he had thought, but so deep as to be nearly violet. “I just- uh – do you think they really wouldn’t mind if you started referring to them that way? They are nice and all, but they aren’t family.”
      Rosy nodded once and chewed on her lower lip for a moment. He could practically hear the way she was weighing out her response.
      “We don’t really have any family, Feodyr. Not anymore. I-” Her voice broke and he could see that she was struggling to hold back tears. She probably don’t want me to think she’s a big baby, like Genny. Rosy composed herself and after a moment, continued. “I saw what happened to my Mama and Father. One of the big ones ate the baby! He ate her, Feodyr. Oh, Sarenrae’s Light, they are all dead now. Everyone but us.”
      “Shhh, Rosy, shhh,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, suddenly feeling many years older than his mere thirteen. “It will be all right, you know? We aren’t alone, not really. And I promise, I’ll be there no matter what. I’ll always look out for you.”
      Rosy placed one of her lovely hands upon his thigh and looked up at him earnestly. “You really mean that, Feodyr? Really?”
      “‘Course, I do. You won’t never have to be alone, ‘less you want to be.”
      She blinked and he could see that there were tears welling up in her big, beautiful violet eyes again. Damn it, I said the wrong thing, didn’t I? Stupid, stupid, stup-
      His rant ended abruptly, shocked out of his brain by the amazing sensation of Rosy’s pale lips pressing against his mouth. Her hands held the sides of his face gently and for a long moment – or maybe it was just a few seconds, Feodyr really wasn’t sure – he closed his eyes and saw nothing but warm, comforting, red.
      “RUUUUUUUUUN!”
      Someone’s desperate scream shattered the afternoon, forced Feodyr and Rosy apart, and set the world spinning caddywompus, out of control.
      Behind him, Toma and Genny started crying again and he scrabbled for a weapon, anything close at hand, so he could defend the cave. Shaking, though he put on the bravest face he could and stood directly in front of Rosy, Feodyr began to search the surround area with his eyes.
      What is it? Who was that? Oh, Erastil, please don’t let it be those bastard goblins! I can’t kill ‘em all alone!
      A heartbeat passed, then two, then more. He could hear someone crashing through the trees. They were getting closer and he could hear ragged breathing. Suddenly, from above the cave opening, something large and heavy dropped before him. It hit the dirt hard, bone-snappingly hard, and groaned.
      Seconds later, a second creature landed – this one graceful enough to stay on its feet. It crouched over the other, not even noticing Feodyr and his short sword.
      “Come on, get up,” it said in a voice that was entirely human. Feodyr let his weapon lower slightly and he stepped forward. Recognition sparked inside his brain and he gasped.
      “Madam Grusbu-” he began.
      Before he could finish, before either of the creatures could register the identity of the kid standing in the mouth of the cave or anything else, a tiny, round, iron ball whizzed past Feodyr’s head.
      The standing creature crumpled to the dirt. A small welt appeared on her cheek and blood began to seep from her nostrils.
      “I got ‘em!” came a triumphant voice from within the cave.
      Feodyr turned to find little Toma dancing a victory jig with the sling from the druidess hanging from her hands.
      One of the creatures began to wail, a high-pitched keening sound, and Feodyr closed his eyes.
      “Toma, what have you done?”
      “I-” She began, stumbling to a stop. “I- killed a gobbin’, ain’t I?”
      He shook his head. “No, but you may have killed Yvetta… Madam Grusburn.”
      Rosy had dropped to her knees beside the unmoving corpse and as Toma began to sob, she looked up at Feodyr and shook her head. “Its no good, Feodyr… she is dead.”
      He went to Toma and hugged her, wishing really hard that Ivan would come back soon. He knew how to keep his sister calm. The short sword in his other hand seemed to weigh a thousand pounds and he tucked it into his belt. Genny was hobbling forward now, leaning heavily on the crutch Feodyr had made for her early this morning.
      “F-feodyr… w-who is that?” she whispered, and pointed.
      He turned.
      The first creature was climbing to its feet. It was a person, Feodyr could see that now, but as he leaned forward, squinting, he could not make out a face in the depths of a deep, dark, hood.
      “Hello?” he asked, his voice so timid he was ashamed of himself. “Are you all right?”
      And then all he heard were screams.
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Note: Image is “The Bat” by minotaurus from SXC.hu