Another tidbit….

A short piece I wrote when I was thinking about doing a Daria – Dragonlance crossover A short piece I wrote when I was thinking about doing a Daria – Dragonlance crossover The parties continued into the night. The warriors ignored how the peasants hadn’t lifted a finger to help, refused them all the permits that they needed, tripled the taxi fare rates within the city, and shorted their linen exchange. The battle was over. They were victorious. Any excuse for a party. And a chance to lift as many purses as possible from the hung over crowds. Greyhound was expensive and the remaining warriors wanted to leave first thing in the morning. They had already heard about the upcoming “Winning the War” tax that was going into effect in the morning. The frail figure nearly tripped over the broken walkway. She rubbed her foot as she considered blasting the block into the 572nd layer of Hell but decided that it wasn’t worth it. She had already blasted three rocks there just this week. The rocks never learned. She drew in her robes tighter around her as she resumed her travel towards the Tower. Daria the Cynic kept one eye on the broken stones and another on the closed and run down shops that lined the street. It had to be because of the Tower. Daria knew that having Magi as neighbors was usually seen as a good thing by the community. Increase in property values. Better schools. Free lunch meat giveaways whenever an experiment went wrong. Towns used to fight over where the next Tower was to be built. “No more,” Daria mumbled as she lifted her head to look at her destination, the Tower of Cynicism. Years ago, there had been more of them. Some said a total of five had been constructed. Some said eleven. There were only three left now that she knew of. She had taken her test and been officially recognized as a Magi at the Trump Tower over in Jersey. There was also the London Tower. Most of the “old guard” resided at that one. Every couple of years, they had to tear it down and move it to a new location. The official excuse was to insure the protection of the last few remaining wizards and their work. What was probably more likely was one of the old gizers knocked up the daughter of a local official or they had tried to cash too many worthless checks and they had been run out of town. Daria paused again as a shiver passed through her. She wrapped her black velvet cloak even tighter around her as she stood a distance from the gate. Lows in the sixties my ass she thought with a curse as the back of her hand brushed against the religious symbol of her alignment hanging from around her neck. The dead smiley face with a bullet hole in the forehead never stopped making people pull back in horror and disgust. It also marked herself as a worshipper of her god, Nixon, and the lesser god, Checkers. Her mind drifted back to when she was first growing up and how she had followed the ways of the more neutral god, Whatever, and the goddess, Whenever. She had then worn the rainbow colored robes with the peace sign around her neck. The symbol had hung heavily as no matter what she did, she never felt comfortable with that alignment. The local high Priest by the name of Trent had taken the words of their holy book to heart and held...

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