[ IP ] Theory sucks ...

Ugh. My hands instinctively reached for the matches, fumbling for a moment, finally causing the dirt above to light up with flickering light. What time... day... oh god! I bolted up, quickly stuffing the match into the lantern on the beside table. Light beamed around the hole as I hastily began getting dressed. If I, hungover ( or hammered still? ), strolled up to those judgemental goblins - wait. My eyes narrowed on the calendar, which unflinchingly stared back. `` Big party with the boys'' - Friday night. Written in big red chalk, underlined, starred, exclamation marked - and next to it, a fresh green check. Today was... Saturday? 
 
 Yes! Yes it was! Hah! No goblins for two more days!... But now I'm awake early, on a Saturday. Sighing, I glanced back at the bed that was so warm and cozy moments ago, then at the boots in my hands. Nope. No turning back now. Stand up, stretch, crack the back, glance in the mirror - yup, still the finest specimen of gnomekind west of the Rubekahn - grab a cracker placed thoughtfully by Thursday me to wet the appetite, and stumble towards breakfast. 
 
 Somehow, hungover legs functioned at a higher levels then non-hungover ones. While my brain still debated on whether Saturday and Sunday both had a `` u'' in them, my feet dexterously maneuvered past the cramped confines of bookshelves and tables and weapons and manuscripts filled with important information and crammed my uncooperative body into a chair. Maybe I was turning into a satyr. If drinking their mead did that, then the boys and I certainly managed it. Maybe that's why I could n't think. Quick feet, slow mind, good mead, slow mind, as the saying goes. 
 
 Suddenly, the earth shook above me, and gravel and dirt cascading onto the food my no-less-capable hungover hands had picked up. Those filthy badgers! I had pounded their faces in two weeks ago and now they returned and were a hundred times fatter- 
 
 `` Ah, yes! This is the spot!'' an old but high-pitched, excited voice exclaimed, `` The Druidic Circle! The third of our seven landmarks! At last!'' 
 
 `` Worth waking up three hours before sunrise?'' someone snarkily replied. 
 
 `` Of course! Four hours, five, I would n't even go to sleep at all if I got to see this magnificent - but wait, I am seeing it right now! Mmm, just like in the books! But come on, come on, take out your notes!'' 
 
 Badgers... badgers do n't take notes. Good observation, my hands remarked, already strapping a knife to my belt ( when did I put on a belt? ) Indeed, said my feet, stealthily walking up to the tunnel to above, that is most definitely true. Here, offered the mouth, taking pity on me, chewing on a tangy root, this ought to help. Vivaldium Roots, my brain proudly cried, cure hangovers instantly! All body parts in cue, eyes half-closed in anticipation of the sunlight, I softly creaked open the trapdoor. 
 
 `` You have your parchment, Yacub, excellent! Sonya, where is yours? Oh, you'll remember anyway? Right... Anyway! Let's begin! What do you know of the Druidic Circle?'' 
 
 `` Ooh, sir, sir, pick me, I actually know this one, over here, sir-'' 
 
 Oh no. Give me the badgers instead. I had just gotten accustomed to the sunlight and already I was sympathizing with the girl. Black hair, warrior's armband, parchment noticeably untouched, head slumped on hand, sword ( wood-dwarf made ) even more noticeably casually propped against the rock, quill drooping to the grass... Then there's mister sitting upright, hand clutching quill, quivering in the air, sensible leather clothes no doubt thoughtfully selected by his mother, glasses anxiously perched on his nose- 
 
 `` Very well, Yacub,'' the old man ( not yet described, but oh boy oh boy ) said, `` tell me what you know.'' 
 
 `` Well, uh, sir, the Druidic Circle was used long ago by druids to convene and cast various spells. Ever since the Dragon, uh, swept through it has fallen into, uh, disrepair, but at its time it was one of the most powerful, uh, magic sites in the Riverlands, with each rune functioning as a powerful ward and, uh, focal point! Furthermore-'' 
 
 `` Very good, Yacub, but that's enough for now. I need to still keep my job you know!'' 
 
 Haha. Very funny. And very good my ass. Disrepair? What did this little snob think I did on Thursdays? This is art! The toadstools delightfully scattered across the grass, watered and fed very diligently, the exact right amount of moss on the rocks, the stump calculated to suit the average height of Riverlands residents... I sourly settled down behind one of the larger boulders. 
 
 `` First and foremost when analyzing a location, we should-'' 
 
 `` Ooh, uh, look at the surroundings-'' 
 
 `` Yes, indeed. So, Sonya, that means not you Yacub, what do you see?'' 
 
 She twitched. Slumped marginally farther down. `` Green hills. Darker green trees. Dirt. Fog. Rivers.'' 
 
 `` Straight to the point! Excellent! Yes, from here we can see the entire Riverlands, which of course aided the Druids -'' 
 
 `` In making, uh, strategic decisions! And planning out-'' 
 
 `` How to best keep the peace, yes, I was just getting to that. From here they could see the problems were anywhere in the land: whether it was the ruthless goblins, the warring ogres, the crafty river trolls, the sly shapeshifters-'' 
 
 `` Oh and uh, the irritable gnomes-'' 
 
 Woah. They continued blabbering on, Sonya's head briefly falling to her knee before jerking back up. Irritable? I plunged my hand into the ground and ripped out an earthworm. `` Do I like irritable to you?'' I hissed. Without waiting for the unlikely event of a reply, I shook him from side to side, so it looked like he was empathically disagreeing, `` Good. I did n't think so,'' and stuffed him back into the earth. 
 
 `` the dastardly dwarves-'' 
 
 `` the, uh, excellent elves-'' 
 
 `` the thoughtful turnip-men, no, haha, I jest-'' 
 
 `` Quiet!'' Sonya suddenly sprang up, raising her voice above disinterested mumble, causing me to grab my knife as well. `` You hear that?'' 
 
 I strained my entirely non-irritable gnome ears, and sure enough I heard the flapping of wings. An owl suddenly careened out of the fog, landing right onto the old man's head. `` Oh, goodness, Archibald, you startled me! What's that? River trolls? Heading this way? Are you sure? Well no, of course I trust you, but it's somewhat unexpected, I thought they agreed to not kill us-'' 
 
 Again, his chatter faded into meaningless white noise, but this time cold fury took ahold of me instead of indignation. I'm a modern gnome, I really am. I party with satyrs, I trade with elves, I'm pleasant enough with dwarves, I even manage to stomach goblins for one day of the week.. But if one goddamned river troll stepped onto the Druidic Circle I had taken care of for the last two hundred and fifty seven years... Snarling, I jumped back into the tunnel, taking out my Vivaldium Roots again. It was time to wake up the boys.
