The lithe elf set her gear down on the hardwood floor of the Safehouse and she let out a slow whistle as she looked around. “It’s quite rustic in ‘ere, I’ll give ye tha’,” she said with a coy smile. “I bet ye rent ’round this place is decent.” She leaned lightly against the doorway that lead to the stables, three horses chuffled quietly in the background. “Bu’ then, I doubt ye really concern yeself with such trivial matters.”
Johnathon Walker stood firm and crossed his arms. There was an explanation that was promised, and he was going to wait on it. But not forever. The look in his eyes held some frustration. First, they’d been set up. Second, this new gunslinger comes around with promise of aid. And third…
Well, at least they got paid.
Pania cleared her throat and coughed. Walker’s glare was making her uneasy. It didn’t help that Monty’s glare was equal to his elder. And Marianne’s… just so cold. The pale elf looked to the three for a moment as she took a seat in an old rickety chair and began to speak. “All the thin’s tha’ ye know. Ev’rythin’ ye’ve ‘eard in the past o’ myths an’ wha’no’. Take ’em an’ toss ’em ta the winds. B’cause as o’ righ’ now, they all change.” She leaned back in the chair as Walker pulled up on of his own, followed slowly by Marianne and Monty. “The universe is made up o’ more ‘n anythin’ tha’ we’ve ever know. Places tha’ some cannu dream o’. I think it’s obvious tha’ I’m no’ ‘uman, an’ I’m no’ from this world.”
“I think I ‘ad that figured out, Sheila,” Monty said with a soft snort. “Ya look like a reject from that ‘orrid Dungeons an’ Dragons movie.”
Pania rolled her eyes and gave a snort of her own. “I’d rather people equated me own kind with somethin’ more Tolkien, if ye please. Bu’ little matter. It’s no’ a long shot in describin’ me own ‘ome world as bein’ rather backwards in comparison ta this world. Very swords an’ sorcery, ye might say. As opposed ta the modern technology o’ this world. An’ Amen’Dell also be from me own world.”
“I take it he’s some sorta outlaw on yer world,” Walker offered his own observations. “An’ yer some kinda bounty hunter, I take it.”
“Sorta,” Pania remarked. “On me own world, I’m a bard, a songstress, a storyteller. An’ a storyteller does any manner o’ thin’ ta write an epic tale fer the masses.”
“Sounds like the bloody papparazzi here,” Marianne quipped as she crossed her arms.
“Again, sorta,” Pania smirked as she gazed over Marianne for a moment. “‘Cept we dunna chase down royalty on motorcycles.”
“Exactly how long you been,” Walker paused mid thought as he formulated the proper words. “…hoppin’ back an’ forth b’tween yer world an’ this one.” It was all rather surreal. He was sitting, having a civil conversation with a being not of Earth. Not human.
“‘Bout two ‘undred years now,” Pania said without missing a beat. Monty snorted and shook his head. “The lifetime o’ them connected ta the Fey folk is a lo’ longer ‘n the short lives o’ ‘umankind,” she replied to Monty’s action. “Some o’ us ‘ave lived o’er a thousand years. I’m young in comparison.”
“So, what, ya take any o’ the things ya find here on Earth back ta yer own world?” Walker asked with some curiosity.
“No,” Pania replied without hesitation. “The creations o’ this world would only serve ta destroy the weave o’ me own world. Magic is as common there as reality television is ‘ere. Them like Amen’Dell, ‘owever, they would like materials from ‘ere ta be sent ta me own world. ‘E made an offer ta give power ta the Front ‘ere on Earth in exchange fer a supply o’ weapons. I found out ‘e planned on takin’ ’em back ta me own world. An’ I plan on stoppin’ ‘im.”
“What exactly is it that this… Amen’Dell were offerin’ the Front?”
Pania sighed slightly and looked out the window of the rustic building. In the street beyond, merchants were closing their shops and packing away their market items. The end of another day was upon them. “I dunna know fer certain. But knowin’ Amen’Dell, ye want ta find out.” She turned to look to the three again. “An’ ye’ll want ta destroy it.”
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