Word: Frolic

 

frolic

[ frol-ik ]

noun

1. merry play; merriment; gaiety; fun.
2. a merrymaking or party.
3. playful behavior or action; prank.

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The party was in danger. The host knew it almost as soon as it started. There were too many conflicts. Too many opinions and everyone wanting to share theirs. And several with no problems telling those people why their opinions were wrong. Even with the good food and good music, the people were causing everything to collapse. 

There was only one thing he could do. One emergency measure the host had with which to salvage the party. He looked around and found the object he needed. It was a small thing. Something that most people would think was just garbage. And yet it was the key to saving the day. 

He went to his closed bedroom door and opened it wide. Then he dropped the item he had retrieved. The crumpled-up piece of paper hit the ground. Nobody even noticed it happen, wrapped up in their own arguments as they were. 

Something emerged from the room. It was small, orange, and furry. A tiny orange tabby kitten. The little animal sniffed at the paper for a moment, then started batting it around. Slowly at first, then with greater energy. He swatted the makeshift toy around, slowly making his way towards the party guests. A moment later, another kitten emerged. An even smaller black kitten that seemed nervous as she sniffed the doorframe. 

The orange kitten pawed at the toy, his black sibling caught sight of it. It was not long before the two kittens were batting the paper around each other and jumping around, and even on top of, each other. They played without a care in the world, rolling around and swatting at each other with the enthusiasm only kittens could muster. 

It was not long before one of the guests caught sight of the animals. She gasped and squealed with joy at the sight. And then a chain reaction occurred. Every single party guest soon forgot what they were arguing about. They were all too enraptured by the playing kittens. 

The orange boy soon disengaged with his sister and went to check out his new admirers. He poked and sniffed the humans, who went wild about it. They extended fingers for the kitten to sniff. The little black kitten soon joined her brother, but moving in a different direction. Both kittens seemed to delight in the new sensations and the attention brought on by the new people. They rolled around, pawing at fingers that were waved in front of them. Fluffy kitten tummies, chins and heads were petted and rubbed. Both human and feline were having a grand time. 

The host let out a sigh of relief. The party was saved. At least for now. Eventually the kittens would grow tired and need to take a nap. And once that happened, all bets were off. Sure the residual joy of playing with kittens would keep everything upbeat and cheerful for a while, but for how long was anyone’s guess. He would just have to hope that the universal truth of kitten playfulness would be able to last the rest of the night.

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

Kittens make everything better. I have yet to encounter a situation that would not be vastly improved by the presence of one or more kittens. I dare anyone to come up with such a situation.

Word: Argent

 

argent

¹

[ ahr-juhnt ]

noun

1. Heraldry. the tincture or metal silver.
2. Archaic.
   1. silver.
   2. something silvery or white.
3. Obsolete. money.

 

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Will stared out at the door. He knew he should probably be doing something. Something related to his job. But there was nothing. All the shelves were stocked and cleaned. The money drawer was well tended to, and the amounts had been checked over several times. Really, there was nothing to do. Which meant all he could do was let his mind wander. 

That was when the door flew open. A man in armor burst into the small shop. He was covered in sweat, dirt and blood. Will wondered how much was his. The armored man made a bee line for the counter. 

“You, shop keep, I need something silver. Quickly!” 

“Uh...silver? I don’t know if--” 

“It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it’s silver!” The man looked over his shoulder at the open door. Outside was cloudy, with a faint haze spreading over the streets.  

“Okay, let me see what we have.” Will said, looking over the contents of the store. 

It was a bunch of knickknacks and oddities. Things that other people had sold for a quick coin. Most of it was junk. Will at least looked, trying to find the telltale look of silver. 

 

He eventually settled on a game board. It was a fancy thing, the kind that nobles would use. It had been sold by a nobleman whose estate was not doing well, but the important part was the pieces were made of gold and silver. Or at least, they looked like they were. 

Will took the game set and placed it on the counter. He opened his mouth to give his sales speech, but the man grabbed one of the silver pieces. He hefted it, turned it over in his armored hand, then clicked his tongue. 

“Fake. I need real silver, lad. Now!” 

“I...I don’t...I don’t know if we have anything else that’s real silver. That was closest thing I know of we have.” 

“Damn it!” 

“Feel free to look around. Maybe you’ll find something I missed? I don’t know everything in the store.” 

The man cast his gaze around the store. He hurriedly looked around the shelves, ignoring anything that was not made of metal. He suddenly paused and looked closer at a small ring. A ring that, to Will, did not seem to be made of silver. But the armored man picked it up and turned it over. 

“Electrum.” The man said. “Half silver, but it’s better than nothing. Hopefully it’ll be enough.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a large gold coin. He flipped it to Will, who fumbled with the money. 

“Uh, excuse me, but this is too much.” 

“Doesn’t matter. Keep the change.” The armored man said. He was already rushing towards the door. 

Will watched the man go, rolling the coin between his fingers. It was worth more than the store made in a year. If the man could throw around that kind of money without a second thought, maybe Will was in the wrong line of work. Adventurers seemed to make a lot of money, if the one that just left was anything to go by. But then again, considering the man’s rush and state of cleanliness, he had to wonder if it was worth it. Maybe Will was better off staying right where he was, where he did not run into monsters on a daily basis.     ********************************

Call me crazy, but any job that involves fighting werewolves, vampires or other silver vulnerable monsters is something I want to stay well away from.

Word: Rime

 

rime

¹

[ rahym ]

noun

1. Also called rime ice. an opaque coating of tiny, white, granular ice particles, caused by the rapid freezing of supercooled water droplets on impact with an object.

  ***********************************

Dale was going to be late. He knew it in his heart. Sure, he was not technically late yet, but with the way his morning had been going? There was no other outcome. First his alarm had not gone off.  Had it only been that he could make do. But then he found out that his house had mice. How did he find that out? One of the rodents had chewed through his fridge’s power cable during the night. 

That alone had made his want to call out from work. But he already knew that was useless. His boss was someone who believed that nothing but emergencies warranted calling out, and the only thing that qualified as an emergency was a trip to the hospital. 

So now Dale had to deal without a good breakfast, without his normal lunch items, and while running late. And still, he might have made it. But then he got outside. His entire car had frosted over in the night. It was not a thick layer of ice, only a thin sheet of rime. It should have been easy to scrape off. But his ill fortune made even that far more difficult than it needed to be. The normally thin ice had not just affected the windows, as it normally would. No, this time it had crept into the door. He had no idea how that had happened, but it had. 

And it made opening the door far harder than it needed to be. He had struggled against the partially frozen door for what felt like minutes. And when it had finally popped open, it had done so with such rapidity and suddenness, that he was knocked back. This caused him to trip over a rock, and fall. Now his pants were covered with dirt and frost, and he still had to scrape the rime off his car enough that he could drive. 

That was blessedly easy. His ice scraper had not been damaged by any mysterious events, so it worked just fine. It did take an extra few minutes though. A few extra minutes that he was not heading to work. A few extra minutes that could end up making him late. Sure, if he drove fast enough, he could just barely make it. But with how the day was going, he was sure he would run into some kind of road work. Or get all red lights. Or get into an accident. Or any number of delays, really. 

Still, Dale got in the car. Sitting on pants that had recently been on frost covered ground was not fun, but he could handle it. He would have to at work, anyway. He turned the key and braced himself for whatever disaster would befall him on his drive. Then he turned it again. And again. Dale’s eye twitched. Was he cursed? Had he upset some karmic deity without knowing it? He must have. It was the only explanation for why, after everything that had happened so far, now he found out that his car refused to start.

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

Ever have a day like this? A day where just everything goes wrong? Seems like that's happening more and more recently in the world.

Word: Prorogue

 

prorogue

[ proh-rohg ]

verb (used with object)

, pro·rogued, pro·ro·guing.

1. to discontinue a session of (the British Parliament or a similar body).

   Synonyms: suspend

2. to defer or postpone, or to extend past the end of a term, as a lease or other contract.

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        It was time. Chris had been waiting for this day for weeks. Almost a month at this point. Everything was ready. His computer was set up. His microphone was working perfectly. His character was all made and ready. All that was needed was a few more minutes wait. 

        He logged in and entered the group voice chat. He was the first one there, but was not waiting long. Another of his fellow players logged on soon after. 

        “Hey there!” Chris said into his mic enthusiastically. 

        “Um...hi?” The person on the other end was using a lower quality mic and he sounded young.   “I, uh, I hope I’m not too late?”?” 

        “Not too late. Definitely not.” Chris said. “Heck, we’re the first two on. “ 

        “Oh, good. Um, my name’s--”-” 

        “Hold it. No real names online.” He watched as another player logged onto the chat. The third of four. “ “We’ll go by our character names. Basic online safety.” 

        “Oh, right. Sorry.” The kid said. “Uh, in that case e I’m...Uh Kel’el. Is that a good name?” 

        “Depends on what you're playing.” The new person said. His voice was deep and had a slight rasp to it. Elf of some kind?” 

“Uh, y-yeah. Elf rogue.” 

Chris sighed. He hoped the kid wouldn’t fall into the trap of the edgy rogue his probable age group inevitably fell into. 

“No problem with that.” Chris said. “Just remember you don’t need to play him as a brooding loner. Anyway, I’ll be your cleric for the game. Big ol’ orc that goes by Clunk. Trust me, it makes sense once you know why.” 

“Hey, don’t gotta explain it us. Orc cleric. I like it.” The third player says. “I’m Whistle, kenku bard, at your service.”  

Chris mused at the choice. It was going to be interesting, that was for sure. He wondered where the other two were. One of his questions was answered as the fourth player entered the chat. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.” Came the voice of a harried and hectic woman. “I’m not late, am I? You haven’t started, have you?” 

“Nope, just introducing ourselves.” Whistle said. 

“Uh, right. Yes, of course. Just...just give me a sec to get everything set up.” 

“Take your time. The DM hasn’t even shown up yet.” Chris said. 

        “He hasn’t? Ah. So, uh, what did I miss?” 

        The three members gave their introductions. It went a bit faster the second time. 

        “Oh, good. I’m glad I didn’t double up with anyone. Uh, I’m a warforged fighter. They don’t have a name, but they go by Thirty-Six. So, um, yeah.” 

        “What’s a warforged?” The kid asked.  

        Before anyone could answer, there was a message on the server’s text channel. The message was not long. Only two sentences. But upon reading them, every member groaned. It read ‘Can’t make it. Emergency.’ 

        “Seriously?” Chris nearly shouted.  

        The bard’s mic went on mute. Chris could imagine what was happening.  

        “But...but I just got here.” The party’s new fighter said. Chris could imagine her starting to tear up. 

        “So...what happens now?” The rogue asked. He sounded slightly panicked.  

The bard’s mic came back. “Sorry about that. Didn’t want young ears to hear certain things. Anyway, we can either log off and try again next week or just, you know, hang out in voice.” 

“I’m down for the second.” Chris said. The others all agreed. “Great. So, Kel, you asked what a warforged is, right? Well, buckle up. This is gonna be wild.”

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

Ah scheduling problems and sudden emergencies. The real downfall of many a D&D party. Also, if you don't know, a kenku is a crow person, and a warforged is basically a fantasy robot. There's more to both of them, but that's the surface level stuff for them.