Dig my grave shallow

He'd brought Koa back to Stormbreak on the Peregrine and after much pacing and staring at his Dagger and several false starts to the Celestine he'd finally screwed his courage to the sticking place and squared his shoulders.

And went shopping.

Then he went to the shrine in the Celestine armed with a cake box, a knife, and a dragon.

The dragon was distracted by a bowl of peanut butter as the courier settled himself in front of Ludo's altar amidst the flourishing water garden beneath the eternal twilight sky, and it gave him time to set out the cake - a round chocolate loaf cake with artfully crafted frosting features of a feline persuasion - and the knife in offering.

Not a true weapon, this knife, but a small tool. It had belonged to his father, and the elder Seawright had taught Tal whittling with it. It was steeped in precious memories for the courier, and it took him a long time to finally release it and sit back on his heels. His fists twisted in the hem of his shirt, the now-familiar pit of dread opening in his gut as he cleared his throat and called on Mort's herald.

One last time, Tal thought for the fifth time.

"Hi Ludo. I, uh, was hopin' y'could maybe..." Wait, no, bad word choice. Tal coughed and tried again. "That is, I mean, could y'please finish what we started with th'poison on my Dagger? Makin' it as strong as it can get?"

ludo Braved the forests, braved the stone Braved the icy winds and fire Braved and beat them on my own Talyson, Ludo has decided, is a masochist. Masochists, as you may well know, enjoy being subjected to physical pain or humiliation. So who is the raggedy herald to deny someone their greatest pleasure when they continually come back for more? What kind of deity would it be not to provide that which is sought out from it? Ludo appears as a ball of happy rags, its porcelain mask painted in a smile. Picking up the knife in a tendril and slicing itself a (very generous) piece of cake, and then one for Boreal, and then one for Talyson, it sits back to munch on it. "Okay!" it says brightly. "Here's what we'll do." Tal has received a quest! He must: 1. Stab a good friend with the Special Delivery Dagger. 2. Stab someone he wants to impress with the Special Delivery Dagger. 3. Hunt and slay a Daemon in King's End, harvesting part of it (e.g. fangs, claws, scales etc.) 4. Stab himself (yes, again) with the Special Delivery Dagger. He will receive: Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Mastered Honed by Nightmares | A curious silvery coating covers the Special Delivery Dagger. Causes extra physical damage at a Mastered level.

Boreal abandoned her peanut butter for cake in a draconic heartbeat and Tal couldn't even pout about it, though he might have winced a little on the inside at seeing his father's knife used for slicing up food instead of carving wood. Instead he cleared his throat again and accepted his slice with a bob of his head and a subdued " 'anks," too tense to really enjoy the flavor of the light and fluffy fresh-baked confection.

And indeed, as he nibbled on a corner of frosting the list was laid out and this time the courier couldn't hide his wince at being tasked with stabbing so many people - himself included. "That's uh... that's a lot o' stabbin'," he managed, voice weak as Boreal happily licked up the last of the crumbs from her own slice. "Least the Daemon hunt sounds... interestin'?" Or, you know, possibly lethal, but potayto, potahto. At least it didn't involve stabbing someone he liked?

Realizing that Boreal was done, Tal hurried to shove his own slice in his mouth. He hadn't been raised to waste food, and that cake had been expensive! But he still gave the raggedy god an awkward little bow as he retreated, dragon and Dagger in tow. "I'd better get t'work, so uh... see y'later, Ludo!"

And then he made his escape to start figuring out which of his close friends was going to get the sharp end of the stick.

~Fin~