"Si-Si-Si. Nyathamon, give it a rest, you musty old gourd. You'll scare the poor guy to death. I've been telling you for centuries that words have a weight you just don't understand." The [Carbuncle's] voice seemed to transmit directly into his mind and, strangely, had a soothing quality to it.

The [Pineking], Nyathamon, was the opposite and warbled sharply in annoyance, "O shove your concern ya proddin' Tortoise!" Its boundless intent raged with a renewal of intensity against the unmoving [Carbuncle]. "I don't need lessons on how to deal with insects!"

The [Carbuncle] slightly inclined its head. "However, you might want to tone it down a bit, that is, if what we were discussing means anything."

It looked back at Quintin with predatory eyes that softened an instant later, along with some confusion.

A grumble of indignation escaped Nyathamon's long-handle vine. Its voice dipped low, gruff, and almost pleasant compared to before. "Just because We might have a... use for this peasant doesn't mean this [King] needs subdue our presence to that of a lowly beggar!"

The [Carbuncle] cut right back, "Oh, drop the act already! This one even bowed and showed grace and gratitude to you! Weren't you just telling me how surprised and overjoyed you were, in so many words... as your actions portray."

The tiny green creature waved its forepaw back and forth in the air like it was dispersing a smelly fart.

Nyathamon's quivering voice broke with apparent outrage, "Inexcusable! How dare you give up secrets of our private and intimate discourse! Vissitri! Uuu' twerp! I'll see you break amidst my immeasurable pressure!"

The [Pineking] seemed to vibrate as its hatred swept out in uncertain, billowing cloud-forms. Needle-like drills, bludgeoning masses, and other shapes competed to beat down on the unaffected [Carbuncle].

Vissitri put a paw up to its mouth and mock-yawned. "Cut the crap already. You know I'm the only being in this valley that would hear you out, if only because I'm the only being that would put up with constantly being provoked like this. I know you, and I know you're afraid."

The [Pineking] was quiet for a few moments before it slowly withdrew the killing intent. Nyathamon seemed to sag just slightly but soon took on a dignified air as the gourd expanded back. "It is true that We are being hunted. We thought Our- guest- was one of them and that, surely, others were right behind him. Just waiting for me to make a move," a slight shift of its body accompanied the words, possibly of discomfort.

Quintin had been soaking in the pressure while unable to speak. He felt tied up and ready for the slaughter. It felt like inevitable death held him firmly in place, but then it rolled off him. He heard every word, but his mind had been blank. Only now was he catching up to the conversation between these two ancient and powerful entities.

Nyathamon? Vissitri? Something they need my help with? Hunted?

With a mutable, cracking expression, he spoke, "What, just what is going on here," he suddenly panic-laughed with tears in his eyes. "Is this how I die? A talking fruit and some sort of Dragon life-form needs my help? Is this a joke I just don't get? Don't give me this crap!"

It became clear after a few moments of silence that the two monsters were shocked by the outburst of pent up emotions.

Vissitri was quicker to recover and spoke, "I dare say you broke the poor guy, Nyathamon. See, this is what I meant when I said words have weight. If you need help from someone else, then you shouldn't be as disparaging as you always are. Not to mention to a guest!"

The [Carbuncle] winked at Nyathamon and mouthed the word guest.

Nyathamon's kingly vanity was sufficiently provoked as it cleared its dipper-vine that came out of a lush green mo-hawk of jagged needle grass. "Well... Yes. Yes! Guests must be entertained. Someone who regards Us as a [King] must also have some measure of security and promise of prosperity. As such, a [Kingly Quest] will mark this meeting properly!"

It paused momentarily before continuing. "Do you wish to hear of Our plight, young [Hero]? From this [King] and Our subjects of the Pinekin Patch?"

Quintin looked around the cleared out area and began to notice [Pinekin] squirm out from underneath the vegetation and soil. They came in such numbers that they were practically sitting on top of one another by the end, filling the entire 30-40 meter area. He wasn't sure if it was just under Nyathamon's control or whether there was a certain amount of sentience going on, but one thing he was sure of was he didn't know enough about this World he found himself on.

Quintin had calmed down after his outburst, and seeing the scene in front of him did fill him with a fairytale quality of awe and resplendence as the light twinkled down through the canopy. Magical motes hung in the air and seemed in search of answers to one unanswerable question or another. After all was said and done, he believed again.

Believed he could live.

Believed in an intangible will, he seemed to lose for an hour or two.

He believed he could be anybody he wanted, whether [Hero] or [Name-Maker] or [Vagabond].

Believed in [Magic].

Quintin straightened himself for the first time in their presence as he stood. His eye was bright blue and beheld no deceit, a bare chest filled with scrapes, abrasions, and calluses was compressed tight. Muscles filled him with dignity as he inclined his head to look straight on at Nyathamon for the first time and held its imaginary gaze solidly.

"I will hear of your plight [Pineking]. I am no [Hero], but merely a wandering [Vagabond] that comes from a land far, far away. But if you think me appropriate, then I would rather live amidst the brilliant light that shines than to die of fear and paranoia as a miserable wretch!"

His steely gaze was of a man who had decided to forfeit his hand and leave it all to fate. Let the feints and bluffs fall around him.

A formal silence pervaded the air for a brief moment. Nyathamon broke the silence as he spoke, "It does this [King] well to hear such impassioned words. We believe We understand what Vissitri spoke of earlier as words do, in fact, have weight young [Vagabond]. We will tell you of Our plight, and you will help Us in this. In return, We will grant you a boon and life to live and direction."

Quintin stood steeped in it. A new emotion, one with a hint of purpose. A purpose that saw him speaking and interacting with monsters, but he had no frame of reference, to begin with. All he knew was that monsters, animals, and humans were all quite capable of some of the same things.

[Quest] system unlocked. Would you like to track: [Nyathamon's Quest]?

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End of The Misanthrope