High Magics: Fuck you and fuck the piece of reality you were standing on -- RecklessPrudence
Ever after, even in the depths of his self-exile, he would remember the first time that the elf used his name. He'd been travelling with the show for months, and knew everyone. And everyone knew him. Except the elf. It was difficult to tell whether they were male or female and they deliberately exploited that to unnerve people.
They were between towns, camping temporarily along the side of the road, and he was passing along meals for anyone who cared to have them. Beans and cabbage. Food that lasted, true, but food that also had unfortunate gassy side-effects. Tirellari, the elf, recommended eating charcoal to remove said effects. They were the only one who did it. Because it was unseemly for an elf to fart.
Kreg approached the dancer's caravan, intending on nothing more than a little chitchat and hearing the usual stream of casual endearments and no mention of his name. He had decided to get his revenge, that night, by referring to Tirellari as 'elf' and 'dancer' until they relented and used his name. He remembered reaching up to knock, and the next thing he knew, he was staring at the cabbage and bean stew spilling out onto the dirt and people were hitting him and asking where the money was.
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