The White-Faced Deer

This story takes place in a world you can’t see, but whose light is always waiting for you.

The figure stood in the midst of a cacophonous dive. The sounds of raucous laughter bled into the clinks and swishes of bar work. Patrons yelled, sang and laughed all around him. Some had stared as he passed through the entrance. His silence stood out, nearly as much as the mask.

A porcelain face adorned his, with a black stripe along the middle. The eyes were blacked out with dark gems. Affixed to the top were two short deer antlers on either side. The figure’s plain clothes only exacerbated the strangeness of the white deer mask.

The bar was split in two. A front, where the entrance was located; it was decorated with taxidermy and a single guitarist, strumming in a corner under dim spotlight. The back bar was filled with chaos; behind the wall that separated the two, a full band played. Partygoers yelled over the music and tagged one another in games of violence and attempted seduction.

The masked man stood next to a bar stool in the back. He stared at the barkeep’s frantic work, his mouth worked silently underneath the mask. Strangers offered him a wide berth as they passed, suspicious of his freakish calm and costume. Less attentive individuals reached over the bar to order or to call their companions, sometimes crossing him, only to rear back in fear once they noticed his adornment and temperament. Something strange radiated from him. Some quality from another land, another world.

A woman walked through the entrance, flipping her curls as she passed a man making some attempt at connection. She studied the front room before marching quickly to the back. Passing the threshold, she found her quarry. The masked figure stood only a few feet from the portal. She breathed a sigh of relief behind him but did not make herself known. Instead, she studied the crowd seriously. Without a word to her patron, she approached a woman on the other side of the bar.

“Are you a mercenary or convoy?” She interrupted an ongoing conversation.

“I work, for myself and those who do the same.” The woman retorted, leaning in to the inquirer.

She sat in the middle of 4 eager listeners. They were sequestered into a corner of the bar. The chairs were red velvet and feathery throw blankets. Sequined pillows that stank of beer were scattered around the chaise lounge she was sitting on. She wore a pointed Gus Hat and a thick cotton cloak. The cloak was wrapped over one of her arms and stitched with black and purple symbols unfamiliar to the inquiring woman.

“Talmuud.” She said, with a slight nod.

The sitting woman returned a brisk nod and said, “Anika.” In a deep, commanding voice. “Friends call me Anne. Clients call me Ace. Which are you?”

“Three names? You must leave an exceptional impression.” Talmuud responded. Then followed up, “The latter.”

“Then, let’s talk.” Anika nodded at the man to her right and he moved away quickly, clearing a space for which Anika waved Talmuud to sit in. She assented.

“I need you to take someone around.” Talmuud said as she fell into the thick cushion of the couch.

“Town?” Anika asked, raising an eyebrow in near-offense.

“The world- the settled part, at least.” Talmuud corrected.

Anika kept the hard question in her expression. She moved her eyes only from Talmuud to the strange man in the white deer mask on the other side of the room. Razor sharp instincts informed her of the who, but not the challenge.

“What’s wrong with him?” She asked, after a few seconds of back and forth.

“Nothing. He won’t make demands, or cause trouble. He’ll be- asleep, for most of it.”

Anika leaned her head down, gesturing to ask if Talmuud was being serious. Talmuud nodded in response. The back and forth glances repeated, followed by a head shake. “Why does he-”

“I’ll pay you twelve blue.” Talmuud interrupted.

“So he is trouble.” Anika said quickly.

“You’ll need at least 7 people. Do you have enough?” Talmuud ignored the statement.

“If I give the word, they’ll shut this place down and we can recruit right here. I have four with me.” Anika leaned back on the lounge with a cocky grin.

Recruitment

Talmuud remained next to Anika, an hour had passed since her promise to “Shut the place down”. The bar didn’t stop, nor did the music. However, the band seemed to play slightly lower in deference. A line had formed in front of Anika that wrapped around to the center of the room, covering half of the bartender’s serving space.

“No thanks, next up.” Anika said to the disappointed lady with golden curls.

Behind the woman, a white-haired man approached Anika. He was frail thin, with wide searching eyes.

“Let me guess, a mage.” She questioned.

“Mhm.” He responded, a stiff grin spread across his chapped lips.

Anika lifted a hand and waved, indicating for him to “go on”. When he looked around for help she said, “What’s your big thing? Your claim to fame, wizard?”

“Oh.” He said, his smile widened, a lunatic being asked about their special interest. “Lightning.”

“Ah. A psycho.” Anika responded. “You’re hired. We’re going ‘around the world’, pay is a blue.”

The mage bowed deeply with an arm curled in as if to royalty. Anika nodded her head to the side to indicate for him to sit. He was the first new recruit. She pointed two fingers in the air to the remaining line of folks. “Two more. That’s it.” To a few groans, some whispered chattering. For the next few minutes, the line shortened without much ado. Finally, a woman with short brown hair approached, a white cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and her smile was coy despite being hidden among unassuming features.

“Are you dangerous or interesting?” Anika asked as she approached. Her tongue was loosened by boredom.

“I’m an engineer. I can work on a wagon in motion. I can…reach through things.”

“Are you lying?” Anika asked. A blue cloud filled her right eye in a sudden burst of color.

“No?” The woman answered.

“Have a seat. Next!”

The Night Air

Outside of the Bar

Was brisk, electric with the suspense of pre-adventure. Anika exited the establishment first. The cold breeze greeted her over warm features and relief ran down her entire body. She took the cloak she was now holding in her arms and swung it around, tying it in one motion.

“One more thing.” Talmuud said, exiting next. “He travels in…this.” She said, approaching a seven foot long stone box, akin to a sarcophagus without filigree.

“He’ll be traveling in a wagon.” Anika challenged.

“You’ll have to commision a larger one if yours won’t fit it. It’s non-negotiable.” Talmuud said.

“It’ll fit.” Anika laughed. “Won’t be much room for the squad…” She trailed off. The rest of her recruits filtered out of the dive and each made uncomfortable glances at the seeming coffin with drilled air holes the two women were gathered at, discussing. The man in the white deer mask passed through the door last. Having said and revealed nothing throughout the night. He approached the stone container and the lid fell away as if weightless, the ground protested this notion heavily as it impacted. He crawled inside of it, and the lid reasserted itself.

Loaded Up

Wagon and cargo secured

Anika stood at the back of the open rear doors of her gem-powered wagon. Talmuud stared past her, into the small interior at the coffin, which took up all middle space. Her face read worry. The recruits had to slide delicately to get past in to their cots and seats. Two cots were hung on either side of it, one above the other, and toward the driver room a white leather couch was built into the wall.

“Who are we meant to be protecting him from?” Anika asked Talmuud. Her voice returned to its former depth, a challenge to levity.

“He doesn’t need protection.” Talmuud said, her eyes didn’t leave the coffin. “He needs a chance at connection.”

“No games. Tell me the truth.” Talmuud laughed in response. Her name was a gift, given because of this propensity.

“There’s nothing you or anyone else can do to hurt him- physically.”

“Then, why did I need to extend my crew?” Anika asked.

“His nature may complicate things. Not directly, not for certain.”

“When should we return?”

“There is no timeline. Be slow, meet people, change things, share your experiences with him.”

“Odd job.” Anika diagnosed.

She shook her head and climbed into the back compartment, lit under harsh white lamps. Anika held one of the black steel doors of the wagon and gave Talmuud one last stare, an oppurtunity to confess anything pivotal. Talmuud still had her eyes locked on the container. She said nothing.

“So long.” Anika said, closing both doors.