Word: Tarantella

 

tarantella

[ tar-uhn-tel-uh ]

noun

1. a rapid, whirling southern Italian dance in very quick sextuple, originally quadruple, meter, usually performed by a single couple, and formerly supposed to be a remedy for tarantism.
2. a piece of music either for the dance or in its rhythm.

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The only sound was the band. Everyone had stopped to watch the two dancers who had taken the stage. The two of them had seemingly come out of nowhere. Nobody knew who they were, nor did anyone seem to care. All that mattered was the dance. 

The dancers moved at a blistering pace. They whirled around each other. Seemingly simple moves contained hidden depths that only those paying close attention could truly appreciate. Every move seemed to enrapture the audience more and more. 

Even their outfits seemed designed to lure people with hidden depth. Elegant, well made black, red and white outfits. The woman’s skirt especially seemed almost hypnotic in the way it moved. Nobody was able to look away as they moved across the dance floor. 

The two kept time perfectly with the lively, energetic music. Or, perhaps it was the other way around. It seemed almost as if the music followed the dancers. Each move was punctuated by a corresponding note. Each note matched perfectly to the way the dancers moved. Nobody could tell who was following who. Were the dancers just that skilled that they could perfectly match an unfamiliar band? Or was the band the ones who were being pulled into the rhythm of the dancers? 

Eventually though, the lively, energetic music stopped. The two dancers ended their almost magical dance at the same time. But the party was still going on. The music still had to play. And the dancers were making no move to leave the floor. The audience held their breath, waiting to see what would come up next. And what did come was almost a mockery of what they had just seen. 

The simple, family music of the Tarantella came up. Its familiar beats and steps that even children could do. Compared to the previous dance, it was laughable. And yet, the dancers did not seem to mind at all. They made no protest, no signs of disappointment. They simply started dancing. And everyone immediately knew that they had very much underestimated the old dance. The way the two dancers moved made it just as potent, just as spellbinding as the more complex dance. 

Each step seemed to tell a story. Every spin, a work of art. Even the simple hand motions were transformed and elevated beyond anything anyone could have foreseen. Although this was a dance that could be done by any number of people, nobody dared join in. Doing so would just ruin it. It practically felt like blasphemy to introduce the crude shufflings of a normal person to a pair like them. 

And so, all the people watched, wide eyed, as the two went through familiar motions, now elevated and made somehow more pure. Like this was what the dance was always meant to be. Nobody dared even move for fear of disturbing them in some way. It was not until the music, and the dance, ended that everyone remembered that they should move. Several people let out breaths that they did not realize they were holding.  

The dancers looked at each other and nodded. Without saying a word, they left. Nobody tried to stop them, or even talk to them. What could they say? Compliment them on their skills? Words did not feel right to convey what had been done in those two dances. And so, all the party goers could do was let the dancers go on their way and wonder just who they were. 

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This one isn't my favorite. I'm not sure if I really did a good job with, well, anything involved with this one. But it's what I came up with given what I had to work with. Sorry.

Word: Scrupulous

 

scrupulous

[ skroo-pyuh-luhs ]

adjective

1. having scruples, or moral or ethical standards; having or showing a strict regard for what one considers right; principled:

   scrupulous about defending human rights.

2. punctiliously or minutely careful, precise, or exact:

   a scrupulous attention to detail in their performance.

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“Excuse me, my lady, but could you please stop there?” 

Lady Ravone and her two guards stopped in utter confusion. They were out in the middle of the woods and were not expecting anyone else. They became even more confused as several men in well-tended leather armor emerged from behind the trees. Each man was armed, but no weapons were drawn. Lady Ravone thought they might be bandits of some kind, but she had never heard of any such ruffians that were actually polite. 

“Thank you, my lady.” One of them said with a well-practiced bow. The man wore the best armor, which even had some metal on it. And since he had spoken, he was most likely the leader. 

“Sir, may I ask what the purpose of this…gathering is?” 

“Of course. I do apologize, but I am afraid I must ask you to part with any coin or valuables you might currently have. Within reason, of course. I shall not dream of taking any items that may serve as a memento or have personal meaning.” 

The Lady blinked. Her guards looked at each other, neither sure what to do. 

“So then you are bandits?” 

“Quite so, madam.” 

“And if I refuse to relinquish my possessions?” 

“Ah, then I am afraid that violence will be necessary. I would, of course, rather avoid such unnecessary behavior.” 

The noble woman wrung her hands nervously. Her two guards reached for their weapons. But, since none of the bandits had drawn theirs, they kept their weapons sheathed as well.  

“You would kill a lady for a few coin?” 

The bandit leader recoiled in shock. He seemed downright offended by the suggestion.  

“My lady, you wound me! I would never allow such behavior for me or my men. No, you shall not die this day. At least, not by our blades. We might have to injure you, but nothing that would leave a mark.” 

“I must say, sir, I have never heard of a robbery being done so…politely. May I ask your name?” 

“Ah, of course. I am Wilhelm, once of Carvale.” The bandit leader said with a deep bow. 

“Carvale? Really? Terrible what happened to that country. We were distraught over the news. Hm, Wilhelm. Ah, you wouldn’t happen to be Sir Wilhelm, the famed paladin, would you?” 

“Alas, I was. But with the fall of my lord and nation, that title was stripped of me. My men and I traveled around trying to find a new home. But a failed paladin and his men are not as well received as one might think. We were at our wits end to find a way to gather enough to eat, and we figured we might as well give this banditry thing a try. You would be our first go at it, my lady.”   

“Times are indeed difficult if such a storied man such as yourself must resort to hiding in the woods and waylaying travelers. Although I must say, in a way it is a relief. Bandits that are so well spoken and behaved is certainly a novel experience. Say, if you would like, I have the ear of a few members of the court. I can see how they would feel about hiring you and your men.” 

Wilhelm perked up at the thought, as did many of his men. “That would indeed be a fine thing to do. You have my thanks for the very thought.” His next words were delivered much less enthusiastically. “Although I still must ask for your coin. Many hungry men to feed and all that.” 

“Ah, of course. Hm, if I gave enough to have a warm meal for you and your men, maybe I could keep the rest?” 

“That would be more than sufficient, my lady.” 

“Wonderful.”  

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. It was not much to her, but it would certainly buy the men a good meal. Maybe even a night in a proper inn if they were smart about its use.  

“Excellent. I do thank you, my lady. You have been most generous.” Wilhelm said with a bow once he had the coins. 

“Oh, think nothing of it. The story alone is more than worth it. Good day, Sir Wilhelm. With any luck, I shall send word with good news about future employment.” 

“I look forward to the day. Good day, madam. Safe travels.”

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Gotta love the trope of the overly polite, super nice bandit. It's fun. At least, I think so. 

Word: Cardinal

cardinal

[ kahr-dn-l ]

noun

1. Roman Catholic Church. a high ecclesiastic appointed by the pope to the College of Cardinals and ranking above every other ecclesiastic but the pope.

 

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The ritual was done. Finally done. Years of labor. Thousands of gold in materials. All for this one glorious moment. Cardinal Wilfred only wished he could actually witness the summoning. Alas, there were very specific requirements, and his being there would throw the whole thing off. No, he would have to be content with seeing the Hero after he had been properly introduced to the world. 

The doors to his office opened. One of the higher ranked priests entered with his head bowed. Wilfred looked on eagerly to hear the man’s report. 

“Well? How is the new Hero?” 

“Adjusting, Cardinal.” The priest said. “It may take longer than we anticipated.” 

“Why is that? Is there something wrong with him?”  

“I am not sure. He has not spoken much and is treating us with suspicion.” 

“That is only to be expected.” The Cardinal said with a slight nod.  

He and his fellow Cardinals anticipated the new Hero would not immediately trust them. It was only to be expected, given they had ripped him from his native world without warning. He looked over the priest. It seemed like the man had more to say. 

“Is there another problem?” 

“Well, forgive me for asking, but the ritual was supposed to summon a human Hero, yes?” 

Wilfred’s brow furrowed in confusion. What other race could the Hero be? Only humans had the versatility to be a proper Hero. Beatfolk had next to no magical ability, while elves were too physically frail.  Dwarves had little stamina and giantfolk were far too slow. No, it had to be a human.  

“Why do you ask? Is the hero not human?” 

The priest rubbed his arm and looked away. “No, Cardinal. He isn’t.” 

Cardinal Wilfred sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. A non-human hero. He could see the disaster in the making. A proper Hero needed to be able to do just about everything with a high proficiency. And only humans could do that.  

Well, it was not all lost. Sure, humans had versatility, but the other races tended to be much better in their respective areas of expertise. Maybe this Hero could be trained well enough to still be mostly functional in their new role.  

“Alright, what is he?” 

The priest studiously avoided the Cardinal’s gaze. Wilfred got a bad feeling. 

“A, uh...that is, the summoned Hero is a....” The priest muttered the next word, making it so that Wilfred could not hear it properly. He did head a ‘D’ though. Maybe a dragon? That would be quite the interesting turn of events. But he could not assume. 

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.” 

“A...demon, Cardinal. The Hero we summoned is a demon.” 

Cardinal Wilfred chuckled. “A fine joke. Now tell me, what did we summon?” That was the only explanation, of course. Someone thought it would be funny to tell Wilfred something so outlandish. Maybe Cardinal Abal.  

“It is not a joke, Cardinal. We summoned a demon through the Hero ritual. All our tests and scans tell us he was successfully marked as a true Hero.” 

Wilfred’s face fell. A mask of complete seriousness came over him. “You aren’t joking? This is real?” 

“Yes, Cardinal.” 

“A demon...Hero.” He mulled the words over. It felt wrong to him. Like the world itself was making fun of him and his efforts. “I suppose I should see him for myself. And then we will judge what to do with our new Hero.” 

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There are more definitions of the word Cardinal that I could've used. Too many to conveniently list here, so I only put the one I used.  If it helps, it also refers to various types of birds and a shade of the color red.

Word: Riparian

 

riparian

[ ri-pair-ee-uhn, rahy- ]

adjective

1. of, relating to, or situated or dwelling on the bank of a river or other body of water:

   riparian villas.

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Ed’s mouth felt like sandpaper and his head was pounding. He wanted nothing more than to lay down, curl up and go to sleep. But if he did that, it would not end well for him. So, he kept moving. He needed to find water. He was in the middle of a forest. There had to be water somewhere. Finding it was the hard part. 

His mind drifted to his situation. He had been brought to another world. He was supposed to have god-like power and several attractive young women fawning over him. Not only did he not have any special powers, but he had been dropped in the middle of a large forest without any supplies. Not even a hint about what to do or where to go. Several near death encounters later, and he was about to die of dehydration. 

What a way to go. 

Still, he had to keep going. Maybe he would find a beautiful female knight who would help him. And then other things. His mind sluggishly churned at the thought when he noticed something. The sound of running water. A river! He had finally found a river! 

He urged his body to move faster and soon exited the trees. He had never felt so relieved to find running water. He rushed forward and dunked his whole head into the cold water. It was magical. He did not even care about what might be living in the water. Parasites could be dealt with once he was fully hydrated. 

Ed drank deeply for a moment. Then, when his lungs were ready to burst, he came up for a breath. Before he went back for more though, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He slowly turned and saw...something. Something that his fantasy riddled mind told him was a goblin. 

The humanoid creature was tiny, only coming up to his knees. It had mottled green skin, long ears and equally long nose. And a mouth full of sharp teeth. Ed looked at it. The goblin looked back. He sighed. Welp, at least he would die of goblin and not dehydration. That was at least more interesting. 

But the goblin did not attack. In fact, it looked more like a curious child than a blood thirsty monster. Its large eyes looked at him like he was something new and interesting.  

“Uh...hi?” Ed said. He was not sure if goblins spoke English. The small creature did not respond.  

At least, not verbally. Its eyes opened even wider, and it ran away. Or rather, it ran towards what Ed was now seeing was a small riverside village. A village containing more goblins, most of which were larger than the first. They still only reach waist height, but still.  

Mud and thatch huts were positioned nearby, each one large enough to house a family of goblins, but much too small for a human. A different building was built half on land and half over the water, supported by thick branches. And a third larger building was positioned in the exact center of the village. 

Thankfully, none of the goblins moved to attack. They whispered amongst themselves in a language that was definitely not English, but they did not seem hostile. That was something. Maybe he would finally be able to find out something about the world he had been forcefully brought to.  

Well, just as soon as he could understand someone.  

***********************************************

I'm sure this'll turn out fine for everyone involved. Yup. No chance of anything horrible happening.