Ridley Kemp

"Tell me a story, mom!" A young tortle fidgets on the edge of a shallow tide pool. A much larger, elderly tortle scowls at the smaller one.

"Eat your kelp. It's getting dry."

The young boy half-heartedly grabs a handful of kelp and puts it in his mouth. He stares at the smooth rocks as he chews slowly. A million questions race through his head.

"Did you grow up here too?"

"No." The elder tortle doesn't look down. "Some other godsforsaken beach somewhere."

"What was that like?" The young tortle's eyes seem impossibly large for his head.

"I don't know. There was sand. There was water. It was a fucking beach!"

The young boy grabs another handful of kelp.

"Why is the sky the same color as the water?"

"Heavens above you are such a fucking pain in my ass!"

The young boy resumes staring at the rocks.

A young, but no longer small turtle stands still at the edge of a river. He holds a tree branch and stares intently at a small calm spot in the rapidly flowing water. Across the river, an elf appears.

"Hello, Ridley!"

The tortle jumps and quickly looks up at the opposite shore. The elf is dressed in simple robes and wears his silver hair tied up in a knot.

"Oh hey, Jorin!" The tortle resumed staring at the calm spot in the river.

"Catch anything today?"

"Not yet. How are your sheep?"

"Still sheepish."

The tortle nods. A moment passes. The elf approaches the shore.

"You know, it works better when the stick is sharp."

"Hm?" The tortle looks up at the elf.

"Catching fish. You can spear them more easily with a sharp stick."

"Oh. Yes." The tortle looks down again.

Another moment.

"Would you like to join me for some tea and biscuits?"

The tortle looks up. A moment. A smile.

"Yes, I think I'd like that."

"I'm sorry. You are not fit for this dojo. We cannot train you."

A slightly older tortle lies on his back, breathing heavily. Above him stands an elf in plain orange robes. The tortle picks himself up off of the ground. The elf offers no help.

"No, I can... I can do it. Just give me another go."

"You had your chance. You are slow, and you rely too much on the protection of your shell!"

"Please. I..."

"Go! We cannot train you!"

The tortle stands in disbelief. The elf offers no remorse. The tortle turns and walks slowly out of the front gate.

The tortle sits at a small table by the wall at a public house. He clutches a large mug of ale, which occasionally makes its way to his lips for a drink.

"Hello pretty." A rough looking human stands over a halfling waiter at a nearby table. The waiter shrinks, trying to avoid confrontation. "Maybe you'd like to join us for a drink?"

"No thank you." The halfling responds weakly.

"Awwww. See now, I'm beginnin' to think you don't like us." The human looks around at his equally greasy compatriots. "And y'see, that hurts our feelings. I think you should apologize."

The human grabs the halfling's arm.

"Stop it!" The tortle looks up, finally registering the commotion nearby.

"You don't have to make this hard, love." The halfling struggles against the man's grip. "Or, heh. I guess you could make it hard." The human grins at his friends. When he looks back at the halfling, the tortle is now standing in front of him, still holding his mug of ale.

"You shou... you shouuuud go." The human stares back in disbelief.

"And you're gonna stop me?"

"Iffff you don't go, yeah." The tortle is now inches away from the human's face, teetering unsteadily.

"You and what army, mate?"

"Me an... fuck you, that's who," and the tortle headbuts the man.

## Epilogue

The tortle wakes up in an alley, covered in filth and clutching a bottle of liquor. A beam of sunlight scorches his eyes as he stirs. He groans.

"Fuck you, sun!" he retorts reflexively.

But the radiance stirs a memory, causing an avalanche through his brain. A shining demon. The Abyss. Scheming devils. Yugoloth betrayers. Dragon daddies. The end of the world. His mind reels.

"What a fucked up dream."

He reflexively lifts the bottle to his lips, but stops just short. More memories. The cave. People. Companions. The gunslinger cat. The dick swinging bard. The pious giant. The mischevious Kobold. Kord's finest warrior and his adopted daughter, raging with radiance. The... wild haired puppet!? And the two horned ones at the center of it all - one with his clones and one who tried to teach him to read. A whole group of people who helped him make it through after he had given up on himself.

He sets the bottle down. He slowly stands up, grimacing as he puts weight on his leg, and brushes debris off of his shell. He limps down the alley way and stops at the end. Across the street is an ornate building. Above the main doorway is a familiar symbol - a star made of four spears and four maces. He stares at it for a minute, collecting himself.

"Welp, I suppose that's as good a place to start over as any."

He crosses the street and steps into the building.