(no subject)

[toothycat]

Original here.

Once every hundred years of notional time, on the same spot, near a big boulder by the roadside, a group of old friends gathered. This time, too, they came together to talk about life and remember how things used to be.
The level 223 paladin complained that for some months now he had not met a worthy foe. Or anyone at all, for that matter. His holy aura was so strong that all enemies run away as soon as he comes within three arrow flights of them.
The level 181 bard sorrowfully reminisced about the times when he could just sing and dance for pleasure or for a small copper coin. Now, whenever he touched hand to strings or opened his mouth, someone would fall asleep or be filled with battle rage. What room for folk tunes when the folk need moral support?
The level 250 cleric cried into his chainmail tunic. A hundred and sixty levels ago he'd reached the level of demigod; these days not even he himself understood quite what he was. His gods came when he whistled.
The level 199 trader bitterly reported that there was nothing left for him to buy and no-one to sell to. All known trading spots already belonged to him, and his daily income was measured in seven digits. What was he to do with it all?
The level 300 thief was there somewhere too, but of course no-one could see or hear him, so it is not known for certain what he complained of or whether he complained at all. Perhaps that he, so stealthy, could no longer be noticed even if he shouted in someone's ear?
The maxed-out mage sighed that he had nothing left to wish for. He had mastered all the known techniques, learned all the mysteries of being, and had turned into a dark, odious figure, avoided by all. Too mighty, too wise. Too distant from the people.
The heroes sat, indulging in reminiscence and ennui.

And the next morning, a new tavern appeared by the boulder by the roadside. As though it had always stood there. A giant, kind-hearted innkeeper sliced bread and ham with a heavy sword. A tall, fragile musician played the flute. A happy, fat monk offered rounds of beer with drunk generosity, flirted with the barmaids and forgave sins left and right. A visiting trader with burning eyes excitedly lost his savings in round after round of dice. A wandering wizard pulled a rabbit from a hat and stuffed it back. The drunken visitors reported that the tavern even had its own ghost - it could sometimes be seen in deep shadow, with the corner of an eye. The tavern breathed comfort and peace, and all around it for three whole arrowflights' distance there were no bandits or wild predators. Travelers would invariably stop here to share a mug of ale and the latest news.
And, of course, to dream of that wonderful time when they reach their hundredth level.

Comments

[ex-robhu.livejournal.com]

Chilling? I thought it had a nice ending - apart from the ghost bit.

[toothycat]

Me too - I was actually looking for something a bit nicer to translate after the professional princess / miller episode, which really depressed me despite the final chunk. I mean, yeah, the last line here is a bit of a hook, but it's not *terrible* terrible as he suggests a way out even as he posits the problem... ^_^

[ex-robhu.livejournal.com]

Txt spk 2 gud 4 u eh?

[toothycat]

Aaargh! I'm melting!

[woodpijn.livejournal.com]

Yes, the miller was just horrible.

[woodpijn.livejournal.com]

Nice ending? Maybe I've misunderstood, but I thought the people in the second half were a new lot, a new generation, hoping to reach the level the first lot are at, unaware of what it's like when you get there. It's like describing a bunch of immortals who hate their immortality and want to die, then cutting to a bunch of ordinary people enthusiastically and optimistically trying to achieve immortality.

[toothycat]

Ah - you did miss something. Compare the descriptions of the people running the tavern and the tavern's surroundings to the descriptions in the first part ;)

[ex-robhu.livejournal.com]

Err... surely woodpijn already understands that?

[woodpijn.livejournal.com]

I noticed the similarity, but I thought it was making the point that history is repeating itself and the new bunch are just like the old bunch. Either that, or the second half was a flashback to how the people in the first half were when they were young and optimistic.

Are you saying that actually the second half is how the first bunch of people become after they've been sitting around depressively? Then, yes, that is less chilling, apart from the ghost (who I assume is the thief).

[toothycat]

I read it as "they sit around sulking, then partway through the night think 'sod it' and magic themselves up an inn to run". There's little clues, like the fact that the inn appears the next morning and nothing nasty comes within three arrow flights of it. Perhaps I was not very good at getting the implication across :( indeed, if the second half is disjoint the whole is very chilling.

[woodpijn.livejournal.com]

Yes, it makes sense now you say.

If it doesn't come across immediately, I don't think that's the translator's fault. And stories don't have to be obvious; it can be fun and worthwhile to have to discuss them in order to understand them.

[ex-robhu.livejournal.com]

They have the life (and possible death) of adventurers ahead of them - I don't think that's so bad. If it ends in them running inns and shops then that doesn't seem like too bad an ending.

It also explains why no one ever attacks the innkeep or shopkeep - especially when shops are stacked full of coins and things to steal - they're all level 300 adventurers ;-)

[ilanin.livejournal.com]

In Forgotten Realms this does actually seem to be the case. It's what I thought of on reading the first time.