Tempus and Vashanka

Tempus and Vashanka

Tempus closed the door of the musty apartment. He undid his belt and scabbard and winced as he laid his sword on the old frazzled chair. He put his hand on his mid-section feeling the discomfort from his disemboweling earlier. The old man across the room adjusted the blanket draped over his legs and smirked as Tempus slumped down on a moth-eaten reclining sofa.

“Rough night last night?” the old man asked whimsically.

“Shove it, father”, Tempus groaned, while sarcastically emphasizing ‘father’.

The old man grinned.

Tempus continued. “You know, damn well, where I was. Chained up like a dog in Hanse’s house of debauchery, my guts spread across the floor like a butchered steer. At least I got the enjoyment of seeing Zalbar’s and Razkuli’s skulls perched on pikes. The poison they gave me still has my head pounding. It sure would have been nice if you had offered at least a little help.”

“Now, son,” the old man responded – emphasizing son in kind- “…you know I am of absolutely no assistance in my current state.”

“You weren’t of much assistance in your previous state either as I recall,” Tempus shot back. “Being struck down into this form, withering away but never completely reaching the end of these miserable existences. I’m just as trapped as you.”

“Stop being such a baby, Tempus. You and I have seen untold ages and glories. These mortal folk would have loved to have seen the glories you and I have. I remember seeing old Yog-kosha land in that spaceship eons ago from those far worlds. I miss old, Yog. He was a good servant, the best my order ever had.”

Tempus reclined back slowly onto the sofa, grimacing. “Those days are long gone, Vashanka. You’ve fallen from the pantheon of the Old Gods, and you managed to bring my sorry arse with you. And to end up in this hell hole of Sanctuary to boot. We could have at least ended up in Xuthal, and lived out these miserable lives under the dreams of the black lotus blossoms, with our bellies full of good food and wine, and in the arms of voluptuous maidens.”

“Until Thog woke up from his sleep and ate us” Vashanka answered angrily. “We probably would have ended up as his dung, well aware of it but unable to do anything about it.”

“Living in Sanctuary isn’t much different than being a piece of shyte in a turd-pile,” Tempus retorted. “At least that Merick got what was coming to him. My thigh still hasn’t healed up correctly and it’s been months after Jubal’s lackey nailed me with that dagger.”

“Now Temp. That boy and his friends were trying to help you out,” Vashanka said.

“The hell they were. They were sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. They’re lucky old Hanse’s hordes managed to get only one of them. The whole bloody gang might have died if Hanse had got his way. What happened to Hanse anyway?”

Vashanka smiled. “I sent a little bird to Enas Yorl that Zook Longreach was in town and that he owed me a favor.”

“Zook? Here?” Tempus asked.

“Yes indeed.”

“He’s a good lad to have in a fight,” Tempus said.

“One of the best,” Vashanka agreed.

“With Zook and Kadakithis in town, you might get the order back up,” Tempus thought out loud.

“I very well might,” Vashanka said.

“Two down, three to go” Tempus thought aloud again.

Tempus and Vashanka

The Lost Lands KentonHorsley