“Citizens of evil, prepare to do battle with the harbinger of honor, the avenger of the night, the Green Witch!” I burst through the front door. Staff pointed at the Half-Man table, arm ready to catch a blow from Sheriff Trill. My hood was pulled down over my face, and I was humming with green magic. It was on. But the Half-Men were gone. So was Sheriff Trill, though his coffee cup remained. Both parties

The Green Witch A scream pierced the night sky. Trouble in Gratitude. The buildings stood stoic, silent to the cries of another in trouble. Hundreds of eyes looked down at the sound of the noise. They found the man, and his attacker, and returned to their own world. None blamed them. The foe was a troll, and burlier than most, well over six feet tall and two hundred pounds. His horns curled around his ears

I looked up from my hiding spot. Merryl said nothing in response. The coffee was poured from the carafe into a ceramic cup. She set the cup down in front of Sheriff Trill, and returned to her washing behind the bar. The ogre stared at the drink for a moment. He fumed, waiting for a proper response to his question. He looked like someone who was used to having his questions (and threats) answered immediately.

The Green Witch             My cloak was gone. My staff was with it, along with as much protections as I could lay on it. They rested hidden behind a refuse pile, with a solemn oath to find the nearest launder when I could afford it. My new costume, one may ask? An apron. My weapon of choice was a rag and a bucket of suds. I attacked the latest foe, a particularly smelly beer stain

There were many taverns. Quiet little holes in the center of Gratitude. Lost souls disappeared into the door to find some comfort in shared solitude and a glass of wine or pint of beer. They would stagger out an indeterminate time later, not happier or even more fulfilled, but content with how time was consumed. Sela ignored those. Sir Violet was pulling her to blood. Sela knew she was different. Her motivations for heroism were

Lady Violet             Sela awoke from her bed. A quick look at the clock confirmed that it was nearly midnight. Exactly as she had hoped. Time to start her evaluations. The room Sela had chosen was not pristine. It was truly a chest of drawers, a bed, and a window. There were not even easy access to facilities. But it was cheap, and paid by the hour. Sela had not asked any questions, and when