Coins and Couriers

Set in the same world as: Wizard of the Nerlin Manroe

“The story thus far, concluded with our separation, and nyaat broke meow heart. No… wait, scrap that part… Meow wishes to see us back tog… nyaa… mrrrr….”

The cat purred on the window sill, bathing in the warmth of the sun’s light. Tapping on the wooden sill with its paw.

“Nyes! ‘Nya desires for nyew adventures right meow!’”

The cat concluded and threw a glance at the mailman who was staring at him. 

“Is that the ending we’re going with?” spoke the mailman in a professional, collected tone.

“Nyeaass. Write it, I’ll pawrint it!”

The mailman scratched the back of his head, then finished off the letter, for the 7th time today, and then pulled out stamp-ink box.

“You mean stamp it? Please stamp it right… here.”

He pointed at a line in the bottom right, underneath it, the text read. ‘signed – Tarsad, the meowster of adventures.’ The mailman, upon receiving the pawrint from the cat, sealed the envelope.

“And… this is going out to….” The cat pondered.

“Righttt…. It’s uhh… Nyampire! But teefsless!” The cat commented.

“Aha… and I find him…??” The mailman inquired with a hint of irritation in his tone.

“Nyan’t know. Slums last I heard.”

The mailman addressed the envelope to the best of his abilities. ‘To: Toothless vampire of the slums.’ He shrugged. A job is a job, such was his job. And it wasn’t the worst fate, to deliver a letter to a vampire, nothing too out of the ordinary. He had heard of a mailman who had to travel for centuries to deliver his mail. And has heard of worse jobs, way more dangerous, and threatening, such as, being a… But the thought was interrupted by a javelin that missed the mailman’s head by a mere centimeter.

He stepped over something, ‘tsk, people these days… don’t clean up after themselves.’ He complained in his mind, oblivious to the fact that the palace in which he was, where the talking cat lived, was being invaded by a band of pirates. Groaning bodies of injured guards and pirates alike littered the hallways of the palace. A sudden bang, a splash, a shout, but he didn’t care, he had mail to deliver.

Once outside, he heard a cling, a familiar metallic cling. Upon a quick glance down, he noticed a small gold coin that dropped beside him. He knelt to pick it up, oblivious to the shadow that eclipsed the sun. A colossal shadow enshrouded half the street, but he couldn’t care less about the giant galleon warship that was being carried by several hundred men beneath it, through the city streets, which eclipsed the sun, he found a coin, it’d be his new, lucky coin. A loud, eardrum shattering bang shattered several windows in the vicinity. Followed by a volley of more cannon fire. Something wooshed over his head, a draft of wind tickled his hair. He got back up, smoothed his hair out and sighed.

“Sure is windy today.”

Past him a band of pirates rushed to storm the palace. He glanced at the coin, it had a strange marking on it, a rune of sorts. He shrugged and moved on.

“Right right… so this oblivious, dense as a rock mailman picked me up but that’s hardly the last of it! Stop laughing you quarters! We’re barely penny-deep into this story.”

The coin complained to the quarters in the bag as it continued telling its one of many stories. The mailman stopped by a local detective office, who, if not a local detective, might know about a vampire in the area. Well, such was his thought, otherwise he’d have to bribe the local tavern owner. The door was opened by a towering giant, covered in a towel. Droplets of water dripped from his scaly chin. He glared down at the postman.

“At least you’re not a dwarf…” He complained.

The postman ignored the remark about his own height compared to the giant, horned, descendant of dragons.

“Are you the great detective H?”

The towering giant hunched over and peeked his head out the door.

“Do I look like an elf?”

“Right. No… I seek a vampire.”

The scaled, wet man before him shrugged.

“None here, I hope! try the ‘crib’ night club.” Then his eyes widened, he panicked and turned swiftly and clumsily on his heel to scan the small office behind him, his massive tail slammed the door, which slammed the mailman and threw him out. But luckily, something distracted him, and he turned away from the door in that same instant. Only his buttocks were harmed in this encounter.

He walked to the tavern next, that was, conveniently, just a few houses over from the detective’s office. When offered a seat he refused to, his buttocks still ached from the sudden slam of the door from the earlier encounter. The tavern was unsurprisingly empty, it was noon, and some of the guests were talking about the local lord being attacked by pirates, but he heard nothing of this before, and the street seemed peaceful enough, albeit perhaps that invasion was the reason for the quietness and emptiness he witnessed out on the streets. Out of nowhere, in a puff of smoke, before him appeared a gorgeous horned woman. She was small, unlike their male counterparts. Her gaze was stern. Her voice gentle.

“Another one…. What…do…you…need?”

“A glass of water.” He replied.

“Only got Ferula Blau” She responded coldly, grabbing a glass.

“I prefer Blau Glasia, but that’ll have to do.” Responded the mailman. She poured him a glass and slid it toward him.

“What else do you need? You lot of the Ded-Ex are naught but trouble.”

He shrugged. “We’re but humble post servicemen.”

She sighed. “Right… you lot take your duties way too seriously.”

He tapped his mail bag at his hip.

“No, only some of us. I’m merely a deliveryman, I wouldn’t go above and beyond to deliver the mail, unlike some of my colleagues.”

Something rustled in the corner, at the top of the highest hanging shelf that was easily at a height twice her own. In a blink of an eye, the owner of the tavern was doing a split between two shelves. In her hand she held a mouse by the tail.

“Little bugger I told you to not return.” She tossed the mouse like she would toss a kunai. It flew out the little crack in the wall with a swoosh, and a squeal.

“A vampire.” He remarked, ignoring the mouse that had just wooshed past him with a loud squeal.

She raised her hands and shrugged. “I didn’t kill him. Wait, why are you interrogating me?”

“No! I need a vampire.” Replied the mailman in a collected tone.

“Wait, you killed a vampire?” She smirked. “I heard… there was a weird travelling one, over nay in the slums.”

He finished his glass of ferula blau, the freshest and purest water in the world, clenched his thirst for knowledge and water, and then pulled out the coin he had picked up earlier. As he held it out in front of him, an arrow impacted it, ripped it out of his gentle grasp, and pushed against his shoulder, stopping the arrow in process, but the impact sent him tumbling to the floor. The tavern owner glared over her shoulder at another crack in the wall, through which an assassin shot the arrow in hopes of assassinating her.

“That was a close one…” he replied, rubbing his shoulder, as he rolled over and pushed himself up, reaching for the slightly dented coin.

“Truly is a lucky coin, I should keep it…” when he got back up, the tavern owner was nowhere to be found.

He left on the counter a different coin, and the arrow that had almost killed him.

“Slums… slums…” he mumbled to himself as he walked down the cobble street. The scent of freshly baked goods tickled his nostrils. But he had no time to make unplanned stops, he was a mailman!

As he crossed the border from the city to slums, a chill ran down his spine. Mist surrounded him. Off in the distance something inhuman growled. Somewhere closer, just around the nearest corner, a snout peeked out, sniffing the air, enjoying his scent, scent of a fresh meal. He gasped, and then coughed. The stench of slums was different.

“Tsk… magic users. Don’t they know it’s illegal?”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly and marched onwards. Nothing would stop him from delivering the mail, he just had to find the toothless vampire in the slums, ‘how hard could that be? Shouldn’t be too hard…’ or so he thought. He braved the threatening and intimidating atmosphere of the slums, the stench of magic, and beasts that surrounded him, that longed for his flesh. That desired his blood.

A hiss, and then flutter of fabric. Behind him stood a vampire. He bared his fangs. His warm breath tickled the skin on the mailman’s neck. He reached for the neck.

“Mine!” He called out.

The mailman’s stern gaze did not shift for even a split second, he did not so much as flinch. In a perfectly calculated motion, he pulled out a small can of tomato juice. Put it perfectly in the trajectory of the vampire’s bite. His fangs pierced the thin metal casing of the can. He tasted the tomato juice and recoiled instantly. But by the time mailman glanced over his shoulder, the vampire was gone. He sighed. That one had fangs, the one he needed, did not. Disappointed, he ventured onwards through the ever intimidating atmosphere of the slums. The deeper he ventured, the denser the fog got, and the darker it turned. It’s as if the light itself was being sucked away by the black market, and the black arts users, the magic users.

“Tsk… magic users…” He clicked his tongue again.

Shortly after, or perhaps half a day later, he wasn’t quite sure, it was all the same and the time of day did not appear to change, he found himself in a casino. What was most shocking about the casino wasn’t the casino itself, but the undead doorman who swung the door open for him.

“Wah..l…ca..m…” he growled with his half missing jaw.

But to a professional mailman, surprises were not surprising. He walked right in like he owned the place and was rather astonished by the rich establishment and seemingly even richer guests. ‘Well that would explain why the slums are so poor, all their money is here.’ He remarked to himself and opted to check in with the information desk about any vampires in the area. To his surprise, he was led to a café within the casino where several such individuals were sipping in blood through straws, out of little coconut cups. He sat at an empty table and was handed a menu. When he flipped to the warm beverages section, his jaw dropped, but not as literally as the barista’s jaw that would occasionally fall to the floor, with a loud ‘thump’.

Trying to concentrate amidst the clunky undead servants that roamed the café’s floor, his focus fell upon a very unique sounding drink on the menu.

“The living tea” he read the description.

The Living Tea

Made from living tea leaves, they release a pleasantly agonizing scream as they plead and beg for mercy while you drown them in near boiling hot water.

As they simmer in their own juices, whimpers and shouts can be heard as they suffer excruciating pain. If you’re lucky, you get a whole family in your cup. Topped with a thin slice of lemon to add extra flavor.

He snapped a waiter over and ordered just that, a cup of tea that indeed very much screamed and begged for mercy as he drowned it in hot water. As he sat there, rejoicing the agonizing screams that will likely cause him nightmares for the following century, a gentleman sat down in the chair beside him.

“Satisfying isn’t it?”

The mailman glanced at the cup, the screams were dying down. His stern and focused expression did not change.

“No, rather horrifying… Doubt I can sleep tonight.”

“That’s just delightful!” Replied the man as he leaned back in the chair and took his top hat off.

“I am…” He began but the mailman wasn’t having it.

“And I didn’t ask.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you mister Didn’t Ask. I am Logan Hogan, general floor manager of this establishment!”

The mailman brought the cup of tea up to his lips, took a whiff of its delightful aroma, it smelled a little bit like death, but had a citrusy scent, quite pleasant.

“Ah, but of course, pleasure to meet you as well, General, Floor Manager.” He tried hard to suppress a sly smirk in his sarcastic remark.

“Ahem…. I heard you are potentially seeking one of our… patrons? Why might that be?”

The mailman shrugged.

“Why do you think a mailman would ever seek anyone?”

The general, who is not a general, but a floor manager, pondered for a while over the statement.

“Right… To… Write!” 

“Are you senile?” Inquired the mailman.

“No, I’m just missing… half a brain!” He turned his head to show a chunk of his skull missing.

“Ah…” The mailman remarked with a sarcastic smile.

“That explains the tea… Does taste great though.”

He took a slow, steady sip, savoring the taste, and the sensation of a leaf of tea, desperately trying to grasp onto his tongue before being swallowed.

“I seek a toothless vampire.” He continued. “I have a letter for him.”

The manager scratched his brain, trying to recall all the toothless vampires in their establishment.

“I can help! I know at least three. Let me get them for you, at a small price of… Delivering a letter for me…”

He pulled his fingers out and put his top hat back on.

The mailman nodded.

“Ded-ex standard rates apply. International delivery costs extra, package cannot exceed 5×5 in size.”

“I’ll get the package ready.” Replied the manager and then took his leave. He returned shortly after, in the company of a single, pale skinned, tall, creature of the night. A vampire that snarled at him. But it was hardly intimidating considering his lack of, well, vampiric features, namely, the fangs. The other two vampires in the café joined the group. The mailman eyed the three vampires curiously. Amused by the fact that toothless vampires were apparently, somehow, a norm. He paced back and forth for a minute.

“How many of you three… know a talking cat?” Bewildered by the fact that all three raised their hands he continued.

“How many are known as the ‘teefless nyampire?’”

All three raised their hands once more.

“You’re kitten me…”

But to that bad pun, only one responded with laughter.

“Oh no, you’ve met meowster of adventures, Tarsad, haven’t you?” Remarked the one that laughed.

“And you are the toothless vampire I seek.” He replied, pulling the letter out of his bag and offering it to the toothless vampire that knew the cat that had sent the letter. The other three had left. The vampire attentively read the letter.

“Got some paper? I have two letters to send. One to a dragon, and the other is a response to the cat.”

The mailman rubbed his eyes.

“Ehhh… A dragon… yes… sure… why not.”

The vampire wrote the letters, and the general manager gave him another letter, a letter to a casino owner, a necromancer, on a different continent.

“A delightful cross oceanic adventure… hopefully with less dead to accompany me.”

He accepted the new delivery orders, and the payment.

But these deliveries are stories for another day.

Audience prompts for this tale

• How about a dancing fish?

• Hmm…wha about a world where magic is forbidden, but it’s still existing and magic users are some kind of outcasts and have to hide it

• a character that is unaware of danger, but they keep very narrowly escaping it

• Tea with a nice slice of lemon