Yes, I got bored again and wrote more Dungeons and Dragons. For anyone who cares to read it, feel free to do so with the download or in the description! Just a little fun piece that shows Jingles can be friendly and helpful in ways that don't involve brutal murder!

Also, I'm still accepting commissions if anyone's interested! Doesn't have to be dungeons and dragons: I'm open to trying lots of things! Check out my prices and shoot me a note if interested!

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It's been 147 years since the gods went away. No god was spared, and no rhyme or reason has ever been discovered. Followers can still draw from the power vacuums left behind, but they are left without guidance or direction. At the same time, the boundaries between planes broke in several places, unleashing a literal Hell on the earth. It's taken over a century of destruction, war, and chaos for things to reach an equilibrium again. Most of the land is still claimed by monsters and creatures almost forgotten, and tiny villages vastly outnumber the few large cities where civilization is trying to reestablish itself. But normal, non-monstrous life is still finding a way to get by.

Thanks to the vast swaths of No Man's Land between towns, communication is nearly impossible without powerful mages. This led to the creation of Longwalkers: freelance couriers, warriors, and monster slayers who will brave the countryside to deliver messages in exchange for payment. Sometimes travelling in groups, sometimes alone, and sometimes functioning as caravan guards, Longwalkers never have a shortage of work. Such is this group, who quickly found their job of escorting a merchant becoming infinitely more complicated.

Five Longwalkers were hired: Viola, the half-elf Daemon Hunter with a blighted arm and a homeland that wants her dead; Almaz, a Fire Genasi who serves as a professional monster hunter, Viola's long time friend, and her voice of reason; Jingles, the demented entertainer from the renowned and feared College of the Jester; Nera, a trickster god worshiping paladin barely contained in a three foot tall tibbit package; and Leukan, the aged elf warlock struggling with the aftermath of his deal with his patron.

Paid to escort the merchant Quinterson and his very young daughter Kiara, the group fulfilled their contract to the letter until their boat dropped them off. Finding the small dock town and his ride home demolished, the merchant quickly negotiated a new deal with the Longwalkers to take them to the Golden City. Along the way, they stopped in a small town to rest and resupply. Upon discovering signs of the same blight that destroyed Viola's and Almaz's hometown in a neighboring farm, the group decided to assist. They killed the violent victims of the plague and destroyed the meteorite that served as the apparent cause of the sickness. After being paid, they accepted one last request before continuing to the Golden City: deal with the monster that was destroying the traps they used to hunt in the forest.

It turns out the monster was a trained troll, a scout for a small army of gnolls, trolls, and other monsters led by something called the Ashfallen. As the party dealt with this creature, the town fell to the Ashfallen's siege. They repelled the advanced force so the town could evacuate, but discovered Quinterson and Kiara had already fled on their own. Luckily, the party found them that night deep in the forest. All agreed to rest, then move with haste in the morning.

They woke to their camp surrounded by cultists, deamanding Kiara as a sacrifice for their “Shepherd, a being so great non-worshipers are not allowed to know its true name.” The party, particularly Leukan and Nera, replied with weapons. In the ensuing brawl, Quinterson was killed and his daughter was taken by their leader, but the cult lost a majority of its members. The Longwalkers quickly decided they were not leaving Kiara behind, and Jingles was left alone with the surviving cultist to ask where their base was. The Jester got his directions in less than five minutes, and the cultist was allowed to flee, screaming about the approaching apocalypse at the hands of the Great Old Ones.

A siege was laid upon the cult's temple before lunch. They discovered that the sacrifice Kiara was undergoing was actually a transformation, a process to make her in the image of their deity. Seeing as the rite had changed two other cultists into Nothics, the party chose to intervene. The last of the cult fell to the blades of the Longwalkers, and Kiara was saved before the ritual could be completed. She was partially transformed, now sporting a third eye and an arm that could change into talons like those of a Nothic, but seemed to still be herself in her mind.

After accidentally angering the Shepherd itself and destroying the temple, the party continued their trek to the Golden City. It was the only place Kiara had family left, and where they would be paid for their efforts. It was mostly quiet as they trekked through the forest, interrupted only by brief stops to eat and rest. But Kiara regularly broke down crying in the beginning, remembering the sight of her father being slaughtered by the cultists. This was something Jingles refused to accept, and made it his personal mission to fix. Much to the party's terror.

---

Almaz notices that Jingles is slowly drifting towards him as they move through the forest. He initially thought it just the odd walk of his, but then decides the clown is deliberately working his way over. The constant, healthy paranoia in Almaz's head makes him keep an eye on the Jester, not sure what to expect. Just because he's friendly doesn't mean he isn't... odd.

He quickly looks over to Viola and makes a small hand gesture. After too many years of travelling together, they've developed their own type of code for whenever the need arises. The half-elf nods and sets her glare on the clown. Her nose continues to work feverishly, smelling out possible threats before they can be seen.

Jingles is playing a meandering tune on his lute when he finally reaches the Fire Genasi. He never looks directly at Almaz, only glancing in his direction occasionally. His eyes are focused on the other side of the party instead. On Kiara, who's sitting on the horse Nera summoned. The paladin herself is in her cat form on the back of her steed, napping near the child still occasionally sobbing. It's an improvement from the hysterical crying she's been doing all morning, but only a small one.

“That's no mood to leave a child in,” the clown says quietly. He's still only looking to her, not the monster hunter beside him. “Don't you agree?”

Almaz shrugs slowly. “There's not much we can do about it. Unless you've learned how to revive her father.”



“Drat, I must've been sick when Sparkles taught that one,” he chuckles. Something about the laugh makes Almaz vaguely uncomfortable. But then, so does almost everything he does. “But we can always make the best of it. A dead body is no reason for tears.”

“Depends on whose body it is. Family usually qualifies,” Viola snarks as she gets closer to the conversation.

“The angry one has words of wisdom hiding underneath all that fury?” Jingles jokes. He camouflages a side step away from her with a small spin. “You are both right and wrong. Loved ones should be mourned, but we cannot let grief overtake us. Not even for a day.”

The Blood Hunter huffs under his breath before speaking. “I wouldn't call you a role model for emotional health.”

“Pardon my saying so, but I've yet to see proper smile from either of you. Ever. Are you suggesting you are better at coping with this world than I?” The clown removes a hand from his lute, and adds an illusionary smile to his mask. Now it looks just like a theater pantomime mask, and somehow makes Jingles seem slightly stranger than before.

“We haven't had much of a reason to,” Viola says, scanning around the group again. “Your jokes aren't funny enough to change that.”

The fake grin quickly changes to a frown. The Jester looks to his companions with his vibrant blue eyes and a tilted head. “If I still had a heart, my feelings would be hurt, Viola.”



Kiara lets out another sob, loud enough to get their attention. She keeps her face buried in her hands, facing forward and away from them. The cat sits up at the sound. She shows some compassion and approaches the child. Curling up into a traditional feline ball again, Nera leans against Kiara's back. Her tuxedo fur shines as she rubs her head on her and purrs. It seems to settle the child slightly.

“I see only three options at the moment,” Jingles says quietly. “Either she stays a sobbing wreck, becomes a frowning bore like the rest of you, or at least smiles and laughs. Which is more appropriate for a child?”

“Think I know which one you prefer,” Almaz sighs.

Humming to himself, the clown allows his magic to fade from his mask. He begins playing another random medley. It's more wandering than usual, a slow drifting rather than a manic run. “What to do, what to do...”

“Anything other than your usual schtick,” Viola groans. She's only mildly terrifying as she twirls a great ax as large as her with one hand.

He seems to ignore the comment, or not even notice it through his own chaotic thoughts. “What are you thinking, Jessie? We have to pull out all of the stops... Yes, music is a given, don't worry... We don't have the props for a proper puppet show...”

Almaz checks the perimeter again, then watches the clown. His eyes are still blue, so he's not feeling violent, but that doesn't mean much. Even the help he's given has been unorthodox. He still has a vivid memory of Jingles distracting the Ashfallen with ungodly loud bagpipes. It makes Almaz paranoid, to put it mildly.

“She does seem the adventurous type... Perfect,” the Jester laughs proudly.

“Try not to involve fire. Or bagpipes,” Almaz says.

Jingles turns to face his companions. “Oh, worry not. I may even make it a productive distraction, should the mood strike me.” He gives a theatrical bow, arms spread wide and lute in one hand. “If you would excuse me, my true job as a Jester is calling.”

Almaz and Viola both curse under their breath as the clown walks away.



Approaching the horse and riders, Leukan finally comes into view from the other side. The elf is watching ahead carefully with his bow, and only partially turns to acknowledge Jingles. He's been surprisingly indifferent to the Jester's presence, often seemingly distracted by something else on his mind. An effective warlock and decent archer, but not one for good company.

“I will be borrowing Kiara,” Jingles informs him. “We shall be back in, oh, fifteen minutes? Is there any direction in particular we should scout?”

Leukan vaguely points the direction he's already walking. “If you have to, look to the north. But do so as safely as you can: this forest has killed enough of us this week.”

“That's what makes it exciting.” The clown adds a brief chuckle to the end.

The warlock briefly aims his bow towards a tree at his right, but lowers it after a moment. “Just keep the child safe. I don't want to bury her as well.”

Jingles briefly wonders if he's wrong about who needs to smile the most in this group, and then dismisses it. Whatever is bothering Leukan is complicated. That will take time. Kiara, on the other hand, is simple. He can at least help her today.



Kiara's still sitting on the horse, still softly crying into her hands. Jingles walks beside the steed and wonders what's the best way to get her attention. After a moment or two, he decides her stuffed rabbit will do nicely.

Reaching behind her and carefully dodging the napping cat, he pulls the toy from her saddle bag. He sets it in the front of her, balanced so it doesn't fall. All it takes is a bit of magic, and it begins squeaking like a real pet. He could manage a moving, talking illusion of a rabbit if he tried, but that would take more magic than he wants to use right now. He has bigger plans for that.

Initially, Kiara doesn't react. Jingles makes the sounds slightly louder, but she sobs through those as well. He dismisses the spell for a moment while he thinks of what to change, then snaps his fingers.

“Why are you crying, Kiara?” the stuffed creature asks in a tiny voice. “Am I not fun anymore?”

That stops her. She looks up and tries to understand how the unfamiliar voice is coming from her toy.

Jingles moves the fluffy arm in a wave. “The clown man wants to play. He says he knows a game even more fun than the ones we played on the boat,” his mind makes the rabbit squeak.

“Well, it's only sort of a game, but it will be lots of fun,” he says in his normal voice. He keeps looking at the rabbit rather than her, selling the act. “And I think Kiara would be perfect for it.”



The toy, aided by Jingles' hand, shakes its head. “I don't know, Funny Clown Man. She told me she doesn't like heights.”

“Only because she hasn't experienced them for herself. Tell me, Little Fluffy One: has she ever told you if she dreams about being a bird? Maybe a proud falcon, or a pretty cardinal?”

Jingles turns the rabbit to its owner. “Was it a different bird? I'm sorry, Kiara: my stuffing brain always forgets these things. What kind of bird did you dream about being?”

She wipes one eye with the back of her hand, definitely avoiding the side of her face with the extra, mutated eye. “Owl. It was an owl...” Her voice is soft, but steady. The clown's bet has paid off.

“An owl, right!” the toy squeaks. “That was my next guess. Or maybe the one after that.”

“I bet she likes how pretty they are, or how quietly they fly,” Jingles guesses to the rabbit.

“They sound funny when they hoot,” the child laughs a little through leaking eyes. “Like they keep asking who's there.”



Jingles turns to Kiara, nudging the toy towards her. “Why don't we pretend we are flying birds together? You can be the owl who's wondering who's out there, and he can be a pretty little hummingbird. I'll be a dodo!”

“Dodo's don't fly, Jingles,” Kiara giggles. “They have to run with their stubby little wings.”

“I don't have wings, but I can still fly. Because I don't listen to those who tell me I can't. I bet those dummy dodos could too if no one ever told them they couldn't.”

The clown has gotten closer to her and is nearly whispering now. He makes a spectacle of looking around to see if the others are listening. Then he puts a hand to her ear. “I told the others we would fly high and scout for them. With all of our eyes, we can see so much more than just me. They don't have to know we're just pretending to be birds. What do you say?”

Kiara is finally smiling a little, but it doesn't last forever. The slight frown returns as her giggles subside. “I don't know...”



He picks up the rabbit and holds it before him in a tight hug. “Come on... It'll be fun.”

“Please, Kiara?” the toy pleads. “I've always wanted to be a hummingbird.”

To seal the deal, Jingles changes his illusion to a visual one. The rabbit's once plain brown fur is now the same color of the bird it so desperately wants to be. With a bright red belly and head, highlighted by vibrant green everywhere else, it is one of the most unique stuffed animals ever imagined.

“Look, he would be so pretty as a humming bird! Can you really tell him no?” Jingles asks.

That gets a true laugh out of her. “Only because Peter looks so funny... We can fly, Jingles.”



As Kiara climbs off of the horse, Jingles takes his sickle to the rope from his pack. He cuts off two portions, each one a little longer than his arm span, then sets his bag where Kiara was sitting. Nera lets out a small growl as her bed is disturbed, but Jingles pays no mind. He shows a surprising gentleness as he secures the child to him with the ropes, one around her ribs and one just above her knees. They can't walk like this, but the harness seems strong enough for the clown's needs. Neither one gives any mind to the rest of the party's stares.

“Ready to see the land like a bird?” he asks with a soft laugh.

She nods, hugging her toy rabbit tightly to her chest. She's slowly losing the signs of the happiness he's worked so hard to create.

Jingles unslings his lute from his back, and holds it before them. “A little hand, please, Jessie,” he says as he strums a three quick chords.

His instrument glows, and the pair lift an inch or so from the ground. Kiara stretches her toes down, confirming for herself that gravity really has decided to ignore them. The clown chuckles as he puts Jessie away. He remembers the first time he realized they could perform that trick together, the freedom he felt. How addictive it still is.



Straightening his body out, he takes off into the air. Kiara yelps at the sudden change and clings tighter to her rabbit. Jingles ignores it and continues flying towards the open sky. After getting maybe thirty feet above the treeline, he begins doing slow loops and twirls.

Kiara starts to smile on the fourth gentle spin, and then laughing on the sixth. Jingles reaches down and grips her wrists. Too busy enjoying herself, she doesn't stop him from spreading her arms to each side like a bird's wings. Peter remains firmly gripped in her right hand, his fluff flowing freely in the rushing wind.

Jingles releases Kiara's wrists and produces Jessie again, holding her just under the child's arms. He begins playing a catchy tune, one at his usual, rapid pace. Gods only know the places I've been, but I love this life that I'm living in... he sings merrily. The smile under his mask can almost be heard in his voice.

They jerk to a stop, surprising Kiara again in a good way. She lets out a small hoot of laughter as the clown propels them straight up as fast as he can. I won't look back to regret yesterday. We're not handed tomorrow, so I'll live for today...



Jingles pulls another loop in the sky, this time leveling out so he's flying parallel with the ground hundreds of feet above the tallest trees. He secures Jessie again, and joins Kiara in holding his arms out wide. Giggling, he says, “Who says dodos and fools can't fly?”

The girl laughs. “HOOT, HOOT!” she shouts at the top of her lungs in a terrible owl imitation.

“What sound does a dodo actually make? I've never heard one,” Jingles comments. “Does it sound something like this?” And then he lets out the worst screech he can manage, as if someone just throat punched a rooster learning to crow.

“Maybe if you stepped on its stubby wings,” she giggles happily.

The clown laughs and lets her enjoy the view in silence. He closes his eyes, quietly hoping there's not an actual bird for them to hit up here. After a minute, Kiara does the same and angles her face into the wind. It's too fast to be called a breeze, but it feels wonderful regardless.



“Jessie and I can only hold us here for a few more minutes,” Jingles says softly, slowing their flight just enough he doesn't need to shout. “She's finicky like that, only letting me use her magic for so long. Soon, we will have to stop. Then we will walk like we did before. Nothing we can say will make her let us fly again today.”

Kiara squirms in her homemade harness. The clown looks to the back of her head, and it occurs to him he would be better at this if he could look at her face. Right now, he can't even tell if her eyes are still closed, or if she's started crying again.

But he continues, letting the wind ripple through his costume. His mania drips back into his tone, soft giggles obscuring some of his words. “But that is life. This world is almost comically bad, isn't it? As if it's trying to be taken seriously by being as depressing as it can manage. And just as we cannot make Jessie fly us again today, we cannot change this world.”

Without warning, Jingles undoes the knots holding the harness together. As Kiara starts to fall, he grabs her arm and stops his flight. She stays quiet, neither fear nor pain making her yelp. As he hoists her back up to him, he sees the tears welling in her eyes again. He knew it was coming, but it doesn't stop him from feeling like he's failed.



“But there is still joy to be had, little one,” he says softly, leaning his head down so she has no choice but to face him. “That's what it means to be a Jester. To smile in the face of dark times, and to help others do the same. To laugh at the bad days and know they can't hurt us any more than we allow them to.”

Kiara wipes the tears from her eyes. She even braves touching the new one on her right side. “How do I do that?” she asks in a soft, broken voice. “I can't think about Daddy without... I keep thinking about those men with the robes, and-”

“You focus on the good times with him,” Jingles interrupts. “You remember when you smiled together instead, the days when your father showed you how he loved you. Give me an example: what did he do that always made you happy?”

She contorts her face as she tries to think. It's not in sorrow or anger, but concentration through what remains of her tears. “At Grandpa's shop... we would put on magic shows. Daddy would use a wand to make pretty lights, or we would play shadow puppets with it.”

“Then that is what you think of, Kiara. I know there are more times like that buried in your mind, ones you simply need to dust off and think of again. You choose to remember those wonderful memories: life is too short to dwell on the others,” the clown concludes with a gentle tone. He nods and taps a finger to her nose. “Do you think you can do that?”



She nods slowly, the tears in her eyes almost completely gone. “I can try.”

“That's my girl. I'm proud of you.” He makes a mess of her hair with one hand, almost dropping her. They both laugh as he catches her again.

“Jingles?” she asks.

“Yes, little one?”

“Will you help me with the remembering? In case I start thinking about... Please?”

Pulling her in to give his arms a break, Jingles starts flying up again slowly. “What else do I have to do with my days? Take up knitting?”

She laughs again, the broken tone of her voice almost gone. “Thank you, Funny Clown Man.”

“Have I mentioned I love that nickname? It's so much more fun than 'annoying asshole' like the others insist on.”



Jingles feels the last of Jessie's magic starting to fade. He knows he can maintain their flight for another thirty seconds at best. It was fun while it lasted.

“May I make a suggestion, Kiara?”

She looks to him earnestly, and nods.

“We fly as high as we can, and we say goodbye to your father. You take a moment to thank him for everything, and promise not to forget him. One last time to mourn him.”

“I think... I think he'd like that,” she says softly. “He deserves that, doesn't he?”

“Yes, he does.” Jingles pulls her in close and flies as fast as he can straight up. The wind slams into them, but they continue past the few clouds left in the sky. Their magic and speed doesn't start to run out until they're above the white puffs.

“Do it now,” he whispers. “Where he and the angels can hear us.”

Kiara closes her eyes, and allows a tear filled smile to cover her face. “I love you, Daddy. And I'll always miss you.”

As the last words leave her mouth, they stall in the air. And then begin plummeting towards the ground.



Jingles lets them pass back through the clouds before he does anything. Then he releases Kiara, and puts a foot of distance between them while casting his spell. Kiara, Peter the Rabbit, and himself all slow their descent to a safe, moderate pace. Feather Fall is a wonderful bit of magic, perfect for the days he doesn't feel like climbing down a ladder. Or when he feels like free falling.

He lets out a loud, “WHOO!” before doing a quick trio of rolls.

Kiara looks at him, confused.

“The spell will land us safely,” he laughs happily. “Who says we can't enjoy the fall?”

Feeling brave, she tries to do a cartwheel in the air. It's a terrible attempt, one that would surely make her fall on solid ground. But here, it just brings a smile to her face.

“How many flips can I do before I vomit? I bet more than you can!” The clown initiates the challenge by going into a massive end over end spin.

Kiara follows suit immediately after, and manages a dozen to Jingles' fifteen befor they both have to stop. Then an idea hits her. “We can be flying warrior monks!” she shouts, striking a martial arts pose a foot from his face.

Jingles counters her monkey paw strike with a crane kick. She immediately returns fire with a spinning roundhouse that narrowly misses his mask.



The pair laugh and “fight” like madmen the whole way down, gently falling through the trees without injury. Kiara makes sure she catches Peter and keeps him from getting dirty in the mud. The Jester lands with a practiced bow. They continue laughing as the ecstasy in their bodies takes its sweet time leaving.

Jingles pats her on the shoulder, and points to the south. “I believe I saw the others that way,” he says. “One of us has to tell them about the great fun we had pretending to be birds, don't we?”

Kiara nods, hugging Peter tightly. “Dibs!”

“Drat, beat me to it!” He kicks the dirt theatrically, making them both laugh again.



As they begin walking, he looks down to her. “You remember my lesson, right?”

Her smile fades, but only for a second before it returns in almost full force. “Life is too short to think about sad things. We focus on fun instead.”

“'Atta girl,” he laughs. “Do you know what that means?”

She shakes her head.

“It means you've completed your first lesson of Jester training.” He leans over for another dramatic whisper. “That means you've earned your first piece of the costume.”

“Really?” Amazement more than confusion fills her face. As if her childhood idol has just said she really is their number one fan.

“Yes, really: would I lie to you? You can have a spare mask from my pack. Though I suppose I'll have to cut a new hole for your eye in it,” he laughs softly. “But that is why I have several. So you have one you can always keep.”

“Do I get two if I beat you there in a race?” she asks with a mischievous grin.

He leans over to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I'll take that bet. Because you don't stand a chance.”

Without warning, he sprints toward the direction he thinks his teammates are. Kiara keeps close behind him, yelling at him about his 'cheating.'