Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Z looked around nervously. He should be here by now. The letter clearly stated that they would meet at 1700 in this house. People filtered in and out as the time passed; most of them priests and speakers of their Gods. Dwanya seemed the most prevalent in this area of Queensdale.
    "Silly humans relying on the Gods to clean up their own damn messes," she muttered.
    "You say something," a towering figure said behind her.
    Z sighed and turned around to face the giant norn standing awkwardly close to her.
    " No Molu, I didn't say anything. He should be here soon. Can you please keep that," she motioned to the brown bear sitting in the corner on a makeshift cot, "beast under control." She turned around checking the room to see if anyone new had entered while she was dealing with her escort and his annoying pet.

    "Don't you dare..." Molu started. As he inhaled to start yelling, he felt a soft, wet nose on the palm of his hand. Glancing back, his trusty sidekick looked him in the eye as if telling him not to bother. Molu took a deep breath and turned back to scan the room.

    Z kept scanning the room in search of this guardian they were supposed to be meeting. Why a guardian needed protecting, she didn't know. But alas, he was late, and something didn't feel right about the whole situation.

    Time continued to tick past and still there was no sign their target. Feeling even more worrisome, Z turned to face Molu once again. "Something isn't right here," she whispered.
    Molu nodded in agreement.
    Feeling irritated Z stated, "We should just go. There must be no... "She dug in her rusack for a piece of parchment with scribbles on it. "...Trace Hawke. I mean what kinda stupid name is that..."
    Suddenly there was a cough behind them.
    Alarmed, Z spun around drawing one dagger and resting her other hand on her revolver. In front of her stood a slightly taller human male. He was draped in simple iron armor and carried a mace in his right hand.
    "Excuse me, but I am Trace Hawke, "he paused to cough nervously, " I think I'm here to meet you"
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.