“Gotta wear stately attire” he quoted Yorick in a funny voice and got dressed. He looked at his traveling clothes and armor that were caked with blood and mud.
“I know, I will polish up the armor before Korrah gets up then we will head down for breakfast,” he said to himself.
Corbin spent the next two hours polishing his breast plate. Corbin then smiled and set it on the chair in the corner of the room. He heard Korrah rustling out of the bed and he walked over while she was stretching and gave her a kiss on the neck.
“What are you doing on your day off, lover?” she asked him.
“I’m going to take my wife to breakfast” he replied.
“Not today dear. I have drills to run the army through” she said as she finished getting dressed. Korrah reached for her sword belt and accidentally knocked Corbin’s armor into the chamber pot.
“Oops. Sorry, gotta go. Bye.”
Corbin stared slack jawed at the closing door and at two hours of his morning down the drain.
“Not to worry I have all day,” he muttered to himself and retrieved his armor to start cleaning again, lighting a candle to better see to get the chamber pot matter out of the cracks and crevices of his armor. Another hour went by and Corbin finished his armor… again. He stood up took a step towards the center of the room and the board beneath his foot broke kicking up and hitting him in the groin. Corbin stumbled back knocking the candle off the table and hot wax spilled all over his armor.
“I don’t know what hurts more,” he mutters as he rubbed his crotch.
Corbin looked at the mess, blew out the candle before it caught anything on fire and grabbed his suit, his polishing and oiling rags, and headed out the door. Taking a look to the right at the large window at the end of the hall Corbin saw the sun shining brightly.
“Perfect lighting. No need for a candle.”
Corbin walked over to the window, took a seat and resumed polishing his armor. After hours he got the last of the candle wax out of the rivets along his shoulder piece. Corbin held his armor up to the light to inspect it. The sound of children giggling and screeching in the distance filled the hallway. Looking past his armor, Corbin saw Markoa running through the great hall on tables and chair tops throwing things at the children while they, in turn, threw things back at him. Markoa was fifteen feet away when a cupcake flew from a child’s hand and stuck in the center of Corbin’s breastplate.
“BY GORUM’S BLADED BOOT!”
Markoa and the children froze. Corbin scraped the cupcake off his mail and looked over the frozen group.
“Who does that? Who has a cupcake fight? Who does that?” he looked at the cupcake for an answer and finding none shook his head and heaved it with all his might at the half-breed. Markoa caught with little trouble and whiped it back across the room. The pastry stuck to Corbin’s forehead still offering no answers.
“Keep the cupcake Corbin. It’ll help you to stay regular.”
The half elf hopped away lithely with giggling children in tow. Corbin stood up and headed up a tower stairwell to a dead end hallway by Slade’s quarters choosing security over light. He stuck the cupcake in his breast pocket and started to polish his armor. Again. Another half an hour went by when he heard a commotion down the hall.
“Now what?” he mutters grumpily to himself.
He could hear Slade yelling at his… dire wolf?
“What’s he bringing that thing in here for?”
Fennario rounded the corner with Slade literally in tow, both covered in mud. Slade dug his heels in trying to stop the beast.
“You damned hound of the nine hells, heel! I say no more cupcakes you rotten mutt”
Fennario stopped and looked down the hall at Corbin sniffing the air before him. Corbin and the dire wolf stared at each other as the cleric’s hand and growing realization drifted to the lump of frosting and cake stuffed in his pocket. A single second stretched between them and as Slade managed to just get one foot under him the great shaggy mass of slavering drool and hunger burst into another charge down the hall with abandon cheered on by Corbin’s gutteral roar of warning.
In a spasmotic ballet of claws on ice Fennario slid into a sitting position before the priest of Gorum and licked a massive tongue over Corbin’s forehead.
“Morning, Slade. What’s going on?”
“Markoa. Screwing up my training session is what. Who, I ask? Who has cupcake fights any ways? Who does that? Damnable dog” he kicks Fennario’s haunches. “Drags me though a mud pit playing with the kids and eating the cupcakes”
Just then Fennario shook and showered Corbin with mud and panted like a puppy. Corbin slowly wiped the mud from his eyes and leveled a quiet stare at Slade. Fennario took the moment of still silence to very gingerly take the cupcake from Corbin’s pocket.
“Polishing your armor Corbin?” Slade grunted.
Corbin nodded his head.
“Well, ummm…” said Slade who, seeing murder in Corbin’s eyes began to back away down the hall dragging Fennario with him. “I find going counter-clockwise on the shoulder plates gives the best polish when using muskrat oil.” He saw Corbin’s veins throbbing and the feeling of divine rage echoed from his holy symbol and moved with greater haste to his room. “Come on Fennario.” he said under his breath insistantly. “See you later Corbin.”
The dwarf made an expeditious retreat into his quarters making sure Corbin couldn’t see the large grin on his face.
Corbin grunted and picked up his armor and polishing kit and headed outside. He walked for a full hour out of town into the woods nearby, stopped to look in all directions and see that no one was in any direction, and sat down on a stump under a tree rested his armor on his knee and started cleaning it again. As the sun was starting to set Corbin sat back on his heels with a smile on his face. His armor was finished again. A niose caught his attention. He stood up and went silent cocking his head to the side and listening he heard the rustling of feathers. He looked up just in time to see a raven drop a present onto his armor.
“Braaaack! Bullseye. Braaaack!”
Corbin shook his fist up at the Baron’s spy bird.
“BY GORUM’S BLADED CODPIECE!!”
A forty foot diameter blast of lightning dropped from the sky hurling Corbin fifty feet from where he had been standing to rest against a charred tree. He sat up and shook his head looking at the spot where he had once stood. The tree was gone and the ground was smoking and glassy in places where the soil had been fused. Corbin looked at his hand and shook it in awe.
“Never done that before,” he whispered to himself. He caught sight of two smoking feathers floating down from the sky.
“Ha. Ha ha… Haa haaaa haaaaaa haaaaaaaa!”
Corbin broke into deep guffaws of laughter as he got to his feet and walked over to his armor to find a smoldering black mess of melted steel.
“Son of a troll!”
Meanwhile, in the Baron’s chambers…
“Yorick, all you’ve done today is watch that bowl of water” said Lizvetta. “It’s your day off and it’s almost over. Do something.”
“Oh, I have been. I just can’t wait for Slade to figure out that I cooked those cupcakes with laxatives in them. I just wonder how Markoa knew.”