The gods of Nevre: The Messenger – After

Tibdast sat in the Hematite Flagon on Nevre, and in Tibdast’s Tavern and Inn on Domhan, and in a nondescript tavern on Midgard, and in a pub on Earth, and in an inn on Yerkir. He wasn’t busy in any of the realms at the moment and he let his consciousness float between his five existences. It wasn’t often this happened.

Well, Tibdast, he thought to himself, what information do you have that should cross realms?

The story of the serpent from Domhan filtered to the front of his mind. No, that’s something I shouldn’t tell in Midgard. Thor may find out.

Deep in his thoughts, Tibdast almost didn’t notice an automaton enter the Hematite Flagon. The instance he did his consciousness splintered back into its five pieces. He sighed deeply on all the realms and on Nevre he faced the automaton.

“Oh, Slapper. How are you?” Tibdast smiled broadly at the automaton.

“Great, am I interrupting something?” The automaton looked around and realized he was the only thing in the tavern.

Tibdast shook his head. “No, just deep in thought.”

Slapper nodded. “Sorry, I know that’s rare for you. I was wondering if you’d seen Syb around? I haven’t seen him for a few days. He’s usually back by now.”

“Oh, he left here with another automaton. He went by Smithed, I think. Left to help someone with something.”

Slapper cocked his head to the side. “Is something wrong? You never forget…well, anything really.”

“Just feels like I’m sluggish for some reason. Not sure why.” Tibdast stretched and yawned. He looked at his hands strangely for a moment, seeing human hands overlaying his gnome ones. He shook his head hard.

“I know you aren’t supposed to sample your own stock, but maybe you should have a drink.” Slapper threw a gold coin on the counter. “I’ll buy.”

Tibdast smiled broadly then frowned as he glanced back down at his hands. They looked gnomish again. “I think some stuff is bleeding through that shouldn’t be.” He shuffled to the rack of ales, then shook his head. “Maybe something stronger.” He turned and walked to the liquor rack. “Hmm…yeah, this will do.” He pulled a small bottle from a shelf and filled two shot glasses with the golden liquid inside. “A little more than what you paid, but worth it.”

Slapper nodded as a shot glass was placed in front of him. “Yous sure you don’t want to give me water instead? It’d be a waste of good alcohol for me to drink that.”

“Oh, it’s not just alcohol. It’s imbued with some focus magic. I don’t open that bottle much.” He thought to himself. “Last time was back when Gormaliev gave it to me.”

“Keeps you focused on the here and now?” Slapper poured the drink into his throat analog. He didn’t need to eat or drink, or even breathe for that matter, but he often did all those things around organics.

“Yes, the here more than the now. It should help you focus on what to do without Syb nearby. Looked like he wanted to stay with Smithed for a while.” Tibdast downed his shot glass and felt himself snap to full attention…well a fifth of his attention, but focused on Nevre with no bleed effects.

Slapper tipped his head toward Tibdast. “You appear more here now. Isn’t it about time you met up with yourselves? It’s been a couple hundred years, hasn’t it?”

“Who’ll watch the bar while I’m gone? Specifically this one. The other ones have people who can watch them.”

“I will. You go.”

“Ok.” Tibdast stood, and started walking out of the Hematite Flagon. “Just be careful. No slapping dwarves while I’m gone.”

“Only if they deserve it.”

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