《Murder Hobo Society》
AUTHOR鈥橲 NOTE
So you want to be a hero? No doubt inspired by the legends and myths of old. Masters of magic obliterating hordes of goblins with their better-hope-you¡¯re-not-in-the-blast-zone spells of fiery doom! Royal paladins decimating undead legions with the pure light of their holier-than-thou self-righteous bleeding hearts! Powerful dwarven warriors drinking themselves into a raging indiscriminate homicidal coma! So on, so forth. Yadda yadda¡
Well, folks, let me tell you, legends lie and myths make stuff up. That¡¯s why they¡¯re legends and myths. In the real world the good guys aren¡¯t always good guys, if you take my meaning. If you don¡¯t, let me beat it into you. Those names carved onto the statues of prominent heroes long dead once instilled fear and loathing into the hearts of those who were unfortunate enough to know them so intimately.
It may be true that the fate of our world has more than once been delivered by the hand of such mighty men, women, and other creatures of less than determinate natures, but to call them mighty is not to call them merciful, or even well intentioned. Fame, riches, glory, unhappy happenstance: these are the ambitions and reasons more often than not that evils are destroyed and the world saved.
Should we be grateful? I suppose in a way, yes. Better to be the footstool of fools than another mindless zombie in the armies of some crazed necromancer bent on world domination. But should we have to tolerate all of these miscreants bumbling around our towns and villages, claiming to be on some errand of epic import? Perhaps your response is to ask whether we have a choice?This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
It has been said that the first step to correcting a problem is admitting that there is a problem to begin with. It is my intent to show all you peasants and plebs that it is time we take the saving of our world into our own hands. Though you may be farmers and sheep herders, your own adventuring skills and competence can¡¯t be far outpaced by those who slaughter your sheep and trod upon your fields while claiming to be fighting mimics and molemen.
This work is a call to you, commoners of Arthery?n, to take the mantle of hero upon yourselves, and no longer rely on the members of that unspeakable society that claims exclusive rights to pillaging ancient shrines, securing long lost relics, and selling at a premium all the random trash that they strip from every monster, passerby, or beast that stands in their way.
And how shall I convince you?
These are the grotesque tales of the flamboyant Murder Hobo, Kendrik, and his band of misfits. It is my prayer to every god that I can name and a few that I¡¯ve just now invented that these pages will reach the eyes of every literate laborer in the realm, so that they may learn just how degenerate their so called heroes are, and rise to the overthrowing of that unmentionable society. May these stories instill within you the distrust that all such adventurers deserve.
PROLOGUE: PART I
The snickers were starting to get annoying. Just a little. He pushed the spectacles back up the ridge of his nose. More snickers, even a couple guffaws. Glancing up made them all turn their faces away quickly, but did nothing to stem the childish giggles that followed. As he read the spectacles slowly slid back down the ridge before catching on the bulbous part of the nose. Whispers, snickers, chuckles, giggles. Enough.
¡°Do I amuse you?¡± His voice was not overly loud, but it was a foreign language to him, and making the correct sounds was difficult, so the words come out louder than intended. The men exploded with laughter. He closed the book with a snap. This created a new wave of laughter. Fine, the imbeciles could enjoy their watered down spirits without his company.
Rising from the table he placed the book in his satchel, shouldered it, and moved towards the door. ¡°Well, look at that, boys! Guess the stories are all wrong about ¡®em. He¡¯s just gonna run away and cry!¡± The highly inebriated bar patrons burst out once more, this time louder than any time previously. The target of their mockery ignored them, continuing toward the door.
Suddenly the laughs stopped and the voice came again. ¡°Hey, before you leave, you should buy us all a drink for having to put up with your stench!¡± Chuckles mixed with murmurs of consent. He sighed and turned to face the men.
¡°You think you funny?¡± They laughed more. Burn this language barrier, he would have to use some universal gestures. ¡°You want me give you something?¡± They all nodded with stupid grins on their faces, the leader of the group standing up and pointing at him.
¡°As a gesture of good will, you buy us a drink, and we¡¯ll not beat you and rip up that book. Not like you could even read it anyway. You¡¯re not foolin¡¯ no one, mate. You had it upside down!¡± The group together bent over with laughter. Rolling his eyes, he set down the satchel. It was a common mistake. Gnomish writing was not like Common. Well, he¡¯d had enough of this buffoonery.
Reaching out, he grabbed onto either side of the nearest table. It was round, and the people sitting at it were trying very hard to appear not interested in the current situation. Their eyes widened when, with a wrenching sound, the table top was torn free of the single post holding it up. The laughter also died down, except for the man standing up, still pointing.
His laughter didn¡¯t stop until the table top struck him right in the chest, carrying him with it until it struck the back wall of the establishment, effectively crushing the man into two halves, his chest exploding from the impact. The previously laughing men stared blankly at their friend, his gore drenching them.
Grimrod casually bent over and picked up his satchel. ¡°Enjoy drink,¡± he said loudly before turning and leaving. He wasn¡¯t five steps from the bar before he heard someone running up to him from behind. Great. It wasn¡¯t over yet. Some people never learned. He turned, ready for a fight, but was caught off guard by the smiling face that greeted him.
¡°Hey, big guy, that was quite a show back there! You¡¯ve really got a great aim with tables. Whenever I try to throw tables at people I usually miss and it goes right through someone behind them. Then through the wall. Don¡¯t know my strength sometimes, you know.¡± His grin was insufferable. Not half as insufferable as the feathered hat he wore.
¡°What you want?¡± Grimrod asked, continuing his walk away from the bar.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
¡°You¡¯re one of them barbarian folk, right? From the highlands? Over above Thruinbilt?¡±
Well, the man knew geography. Pushing the spectacles back up his nose, the barbarian asked, ¡°Why you ask?¡± The man¡¯s eyes glanced at his satchel and lit up.
¡°Oh, hey, you¡¯ve got a whole bunch of them book thingies in there! Wow. What were you reading upside down anyway?¡±
What was wrong with this person? Did he have an attention deficiency? Grimrod sighed. The book was a treatise on the proper dissection of various breeds of mutated insects found in the Blasted Zone, but he didn¡¯t yet know any of those words in this wretched language. He did the best he could. ¡°Book on how cut monsters.¡±
¡°Wow, sounds fun, big guy. Right up your alley. Look, I don¡¯t want to have to keep calling you big guy, what¡¯s your name, pal?¡±
Grunting, getting more annoyed by the moment, he decided to humor the strange man, hoping to get rid of him faster. ¡°Grimrod.¡±
¡°Well, that is a name that suits you just fine.¡± He stuck out a hand, ¡°The name¡¯s Kendrik, and it is a pleasure to meet you, friend.¡±
The barbarian finally stopped, reached out and shook the man¡¯s hand. Kendrik squeezed, hard. Or at least Grimrod assumed he was squeezing hard. What was this, some kind of attempt to show off? He considered crushing the man¡¯s bones but decided against it, attempting instead to get to the point of this bizarre exchange, ¡°Why you ask questions? What you want?¡±
¡°Yes! Right! I am a person who has been commissioned by The Society to assist in the recovery of certain objects of interest to a very influential and wealthy benefactor.¡± Grimrod blinked at him a few times. What were all these words he was using? Though he was learning Common as quickly as he could, this man seemed to be intentionally using vocabulary that would be beyond any new learner. What a jerk.
This being his sixth language, Grimrod defaulted to the first thing he always learned with any new language, ¡°I no understand.¡±
The odd man nodded knowingly, then said, very slowly, ¡°I pay you. You follow me. You smash things. I pay you more.¡± He smiled and gave two big thumbs up.
It was tempting to just smash this man right here right now, but the unfortunate truth was that Grimrod was low on cash. He had come to Caliphas to learn the language and customs of the so-called ¡°Common¡± human empire, hoping to disappear in the crowds of the capital city. So far so good. He had, however, grossly underestimated the amount of money he would need to subsist on. Attempting to apply anywhere for work had been an exercise in utter futility due to the language barrier, and now he¡¯d just killed someone. That wasn¡¯t likely to go unnoticed forever. He had seen enough bar brawls go sour to know that such murder wasn¡¯t uncommon, but the guards did still have to at least attempt to discourage it, and he was a unique enough character that he wouldn¡¯t be difficult to find.
¡°Sound good, little man, Kendrik. Me follow you.¡±
Kendrik may have had an insufferable grin before, but now that grin turned downright pathological. ¡°Yes! Yes! This is great! You won¡¯t regret this, Grim! Let¡¯s go!¡± The large barbarian put a heavy hand on the little man¡¯s shoulder. He turned, looking slightly confused. Grimrod held out an empty hand in front of Kendrik¡¯s face.
¡°Pay first.¡±
A nervous little laugh wheezed from the man¡¯s lips. ¡°Eeeh, of course! My mistake. It¡¯s not much, to begin, you understand. I can¡¯t give you a fortune now and have you skipping town on me. But a little something for you to get supplies. Yeah?¡± He had been searching through his pockets and chest pouches while he spoke the words, growing more confident with each syllable. Finally, he produced two coins and put them in Grimrod¡¯s massive palm.
¡°I understand,¡± the big man said, putting the coins in his satchel and nodding his head. ¡°Now me follow Kendrik.¡±
PROLOGUE: PART II
Tyboloth glared at the two men. They were a ways down the road, and not moving toward him, but still, they were staring at him. Which meant they were looking for him. The only time anyone saw Tyboloth, when he didn¡¯t want to be seen, was if they were looking for him. Well, they would have to wait. Probably for a while. A few minutes later he turned his head slowly towards them again. They were still there. Still staring. Patient, he¡¯d give them that.
The sound of wheels reached his ears. He took a deep breath, very slowly. It was almost time. The cart was moving slowly along the road to Caliphas. This wasn¡¯t the main road, of course, that one was far too busy. This was one of the many side roads the merchants used to get their goods into the city. Only those with the proper permits would be allowed through the side entrance, nearly a mile away. This cart was leaving the city. Empty.
Preparing himself, Tyboloth started counting. The timing would have to be just right. He began to let go of the branch he was holding onto, one finger at a time. Slowly. Just as the cart was rolling across the ground below him, the last finger released and he fell into the back of the cart. Whoever those men were, they were too late now. By this time tomorrow, he¡¯d be miles away from Caliphas.
Ah, yes, this was the only way to travel. A bit bumpy, but still, it was fast. The bumping stopped. Tyboloth found himself flying through the air, watching the empty cart roll away below him. What was happening?! Turning his head slowly, he found that he was in the grip of one of the two men that had been watching him. The big one had just reached into the cart and plucked him right out. All of his planning, ruined.
¡°Baaah. What. Do. You. Want?¡± Tyboloth asked, slowly. He was fuming.
¡°Ah, the master thief himself. Trying to get out of town, were you?¡± It was the little one, with the rather glamorous feathered cap. Tyboloth wondered what he would look like wearing such a nice piece of paraphernalia.
¡°Thief?¡± His eyes went wide and he glanced left, then right. ¡°Where?¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
¡°Now, now, no need to worry, friend. I see that you are anxious to leave the city, and I¡¯m here to offer you just that opportunity.¡± The little man was grinning. He hadn¡¯t stopped grinning from the moment Tyboloth first saw him.
¡°I¡¯m listening.¡± What choice did he have? The brute still had him dangling in the air.
¡°I am a person who has been commissioned by The Society to assist in the recovery of certain objects of interest to a very influential and wealthy benefactor. We have need of someone of your particular talents to assist us.¡±
¡°What¡¯s the pay?¡±
¡°A guarded trip away from the city for starters, with an even share of all the loot we procure throughout our endeavor.¡±
¡°Loot?¡±
The grin managed to get more, well, oily. ¡°The first object we¡¯re after has been lost within some old ruins which have just recently been discovered.¡± Tyboloth avoided the obvious question as to how someone could lose something within old ruins only recently discovered. If they were hiring him, this wasn¡¯t a simple retrieval errand.
¡°Deal,¡± he said, holding out three long claws, which the man gripped and shook without a second thought.
¡°The names Kendrik. The man who assisted your exit from the wagon is Grimrod.¡±
¡°Nice meet you,¡± said the big man, loudly.
¡°Tyboloth. But you know that.¡± The grinning man nodded. ¡°Well, call me Tybol.¡±
¡°Come along then Tybol!¡± Kendrik reached up and took hold of him, placing him on the ground. The trio started their trek down the dusty road. It was only a few seconds before Kendrik turned around and glanced back at Tyboloth. ¡°Would you, ah, like a ride?¡±
¡°Yes. Please.¡± Kendrik gave Grimrod a look, and the big man grunted, rolling his eyes.
¡°You not pay me to be donkey.¡±
¡°Come on, Grim! We¡¯re all in this together. We¡¯ve all got to pull our weight, and you weigh the most.¡± The wink that accompanied his grin just made the big man groan and roll his eyes again, but then he sighed and reached down. He picked up Tyboloth and placed him on his shoulders, like a backpack.
It was no horse-drawn cart, but for a weresloth like Tyboloth, it was the next best thing.
PROLOGUE: PART III? SERIOUSLY? GET ON WITH IT
This was it. The end. Doom. Destruction. Punishment. Eternal punishment. Undoubtedly. The goddess was not going to be pleased. ¡°Oh, please just get better!¡± Her hands were clasped very tightly as she prayed over the bleeding figure. ¡°Goddess, forgive me for not healing this poor, unfortunate creature. I am selfish beyond measure and accept your just punishment, but please, heal this sad, bleeding, wounded, hurt, poor, sad, sad person.¡±
She peeked, but only with one eye. Blood was still pouring out of the gash on the man¡¯s head. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± She decided to try a new tactic. Squeezing her eyes closed, she prayed harder. ¡°Goddess, I know that you have given me this gift to heal others, that I may be your instrument in this mortal realm. However, I¡¯ve heard that good leaders don¡¯t ask their followers to do anything they aren¡¯t willing to do themselves. If you will just heal this, sad, unfortunate, poor soul, of his wounds, then I will know that you do indeed wish for me to follow you. Do this much, that I may know that you are there, and listening.¡±
Taking a deep breath she peeked again. Both eyes opened wide. That blasted goddess was calling her bluff! The gash on the man¡¯s head was healed. There were still plenty more wounds to deal with, however, and she had no intention of dealing with them. A painful moan escaped the patient¡¯s mouth. Was he taunting her? ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± she hissed.
Squeezing her eyes shut once again, she continued praying. ¡°Goddess, I thank you for hearing my plea. You truly are great and wonderful, oh goddess of light, and goodness, and beauty, and light. I know now that you wish for me to use your light to heal those poor, sad, unfortunate, sad, sad, souls. However, it occurs to me, having seen the miracle of your healing powers, that what is difficult for me is simple for you. Wouldn¡¯t it make more sense if you were to heal this sad, sad, sad creature, and all the others, and let me get to doing something that is more useful, something you can¡¯t do yourself? Something like--¡± A crack of thunder boomed, shaking the room. ¡°Well, fine, then. There¡¯s no reason to get so testy.¡±
¡°Sister!¡± One of the priestesses came running into the room. ¡°Oh, if the mine collapsing this morning wasn¡¯t enough! A bolt of lightning just shot out of the blue sky and exploded the inn! They¡¯re bringing in even more wounded! Are you finished with this one yet?¡±
The goddess hadn¡¯t just called her bluff, she was doubling down. She was good. ¡°Ooooo!¡± she shouted and the other priestess looked surprised. ¡°Why me?¡± She said it to the beams overhead. Sighing, she stood up. ¡°Very well, Sister Hebb, let¡¯s get this done. Gather all of the wounded into one place.¡±
¡°The only place big enough would be the garden. I¡¯ll get everyone started on it right away. Shall I bring this man as well, or do you want to heal him here?¡± Little old Sister Hebb was so practical.
Scowling the younger woman stood. ¡°Leave him here. The goddess is going to heal this man while I heal the others.¡± The older woman¡¯s eyes bulged.
¡°The-the-the goddess?!¡±
The goddess was good, but she had an ace up her sleeve. ¡°That¡¯s right. This is the deal we have. If I heal the others, she¡¯ll heal him. If the man dies, you¡¯ll know exactly what kind of goddess you worship.¡± Take that you hag! Sister Hebb was stunned for only a moment, then rushed off, yelling commands at all of the other sisters and townsfolk tending to masses of wounded villagers. What a mess.
She followed Sister Hebb into the corridor, then made a quick trip to her own quarters. A cloak would be necessary if the healing was to be done outside. Pesky light. Pesky goddess and her pesky blessings. Why couldn¡¯t she have been blessed with riches or fame? Why couldn¡¯t she be blessed with extreme beauty or nobility? Why did she have to be blessed with the healing powers of the goddess herself? Of course, to be fair, that wouldn¡¯t be so bad, if it weren¡¯t for the curse. But to be even fairer, the curse had come first. On top of that, this so-called ¡°blessing¡± was just a double curse!
Grabbing her gloves, she put them on as she left the room, heading towards the garden. The hallways were mostly empty now. These peasants made quick work of moving bodies when it was their own friends and family. Well, this was it. This was the last time. After this, the goddess would have to do any healing that needed doing in this dirty old town herself.
The sun was horribly bright. Wretched sun. She pulled at the hood again, but it was already covering her face as much as it could. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get this done quickly now. Is everyone here?¡±
¡°Wait!¡± Someone called from behind and she turned. Two creeps were dragging themselves through the hall of the temple, leaning on each other and dragging some kind of dead animal behind them. As they got closer she realized that it was really just one man that was injured, but he was so much larger than the one wearing the funny hat, that it took all of the smaller man¡¯s effort to keep him upright. The beast of a man was the one dragging the limp creature. Was it a dog? No, they had snouts, didn¡¯t they?
¡°Well, hurry it up!¡± She hissed and motioned for them to move quicker. Two sisters leapt to the rescue, helping carry the big man into the courtyard.
¡°Thank you, sisters,¡± said the man with the hat, massaging his shoulder. ¡°Think I could use some of that healing as well.¡± She wanted to slap the grin off his face, but instead, she closed her eyes. This was going to hurt.
In spite of the murmured moans and loud cries of the wounded, the words of reassurance given by the many priestesses and townsfolk that were tending to them, everyone went silent and still the moment light began to pour out of the hooded figure that stood in their midst. It wasn¡¯t the blessed healing light of the goddess, shining forth, brighter even than the sun, wrapping around them, sealing wounds, rejuvenating bodies, that stilled and hushed the crowd. It was the blood-curdling screams that came from the light¡¯s source.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
It only lasted a few seconds, then the sister collapsed and the light faded. Kendrik moved swiftly, just barely not catching the young woman before she crashed into the ground. Sisters gather around as he helped her up.
¡°By the goddess, what happened?¡±
¡°Are you alright, sister?¡±
¡°Sister, your face, it¡¯s covered with burns!¡±
¡°Sister Hebb, you have some healing powers, can you care for her burns?¡±
¡°Nooo!¡± She screamed and flailed, pushing them away.
¡°I¡¯m fine! I¡¯ll be fine!¡± Despite her words, she swayed. ¡°It¡¯s the goddess. She-she-she showed me a vision! That¡¯s it! I saw¡ burning! Fires! I¡¯m needed elsewhere. My good sisters, I must leave the temple, and travel far away. It is Her will.¡±
Thankfully, they ate it up. Everyone except that infernal man, who stared at her with a smirking grin. The giant he had brought with him was standing now, healed. Strangely enough, their animal was also standing. On its hind legs. It was wearing clothes. Then the big man picked it up and placed the creature on his back. The sisters were fawning over her story, congratulating her and wishing her well.
¡°But when will you leave?¡± It was Sister Hebb.
¡°Now.¡±
¡°You can barely stand! And it¡¯s not safe to travel alone these days.¡±
¡°Dear sisters!¡± It was the grin. ¡°Clearly, we have been fated by the goddess herself to be struck by that bolt of lightning. It lead us, poor wandering adventurers, to this good sister¡¡± he paused, waiting for her name. Don¡¯t say it, don¡¯t say--
¡°Nancy. This is Sister Nancy.¡± Blasted old woman. The grin had actually wavered into something less confident for just a moment, however, so it had been worth it.
¡°Sister¡ Nancy?¡± He tested the name. ¡°Well, as I was saying, we will devote ourselves to helping the goddess¡¯ priestess on her quest.¡± How could anyone believe a word that came out of that grin? And yet, the sisters were eating that up as well. At least it would get her out of here.
¡°Good men, sent by the goddess,¡± she wasn¡¯t being too dramatic was she? ¡°I thank you for your devotion. I will grab my belongings quickly, then we shall be on our way immediately. Please wait for me by the temple¡¯s entrance.¡±
Wading through the hugs and weepy farewells of the priestesses, she finally made it back into the temple. It would be a cold day in the Blasted Zone before she went anywhere with those creeps. She quickly changed into her gardening clothes, packed what little she had into her pack, and headed back into the garden. She¡¯d be leaving by the back gate, of course. Those men would likely expect her to be a while. By the time they thought to go looking for her she¡¯d be a mile down the road.
There were still quite a few people in the courtyard, but in her dark hooded blouse, she looked like just another peasant exiting through the back of the temple, getting back to the daily plebeian life.
About a minute later she realized that some of the other villagers that head exited through that gate were still walking beside her. She glanced to her right and saw bulging biceps. Daring a look to the left she saw a grin that made her want to puke, shaded by a ridiculous hat.
¡°Can¡¯t fool everybody, I guess,¡± she said resignedly.
¡°Ah, don¡¯t feel bad. We really do mean well, don¡¯t we, Grim?¡±
The big man to her right grunted. That wasn¡¯t particularly reassuring.
¡°What he means to say, is, while you may have been lying to your fellow priestesses, goddess forgive you, I was actually speaking the truth. Well, mostly, anyway. You¡¯re obviously running away, and I¡¯m offering you somewhere to run to, with the added bonus of safety in numbers. Not to mention a way to make some money while you¡¯re at it.¡±
Nancy walked in silence for a minute while she thought. Surprisingly, the feather-capped man didn¡¯t interrupt the silence. If the offer were genuine, it was an opportunity she would be a fool to pass up. If it wasn¡¯t, then the honest truth was that she was just running into the trouble she eventually would early than expected.
¡°What are the details of this arrangement?¡± She asked cautiously.
She could feel his grin as he responded, ¡°I am a person who has been commissioned by The Society to assist in the recovery of certain objects of interest to a very influential and wealthy benefactor. We have need of someone of your particular talents to assist us.¡± The line sounded rehearsed.
¡°That¡¯s exactly what he said to me,¡± turning her head she started at the furry lump on the large man¡¯s back. By the goddess, it was looking right at her, and it was talking! Slowly. ¡°Tyboloth, at your service.¡±
¡°Well, I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯m going to have to decline. You may think, after what you just saw, that I am a healer. You¡¯d be wrong.¡±
He laughed, ¡°Oh, you may not be very good at lying, but you are quite good at healing. We all saw it. However, I understand what you mean.¡± She glanced at him. The grin had managed to get even more insufferable. ¡°As you said, can¡¯t fool everybody. Those burns didn¡¯t come from any vision. You¡¯re undead.¡±
Who was this guy? ¡°I am not!¡± Nancy hissed. ¡°I¡¯m just¡ cursed. With necrotic skin.¡±
¡°Look, I don¡¯t care about your curse, all I care about is my contract. We came to Downsford looking for a healer, and we¡¯ve found one. As far as the terms and conditions go, we just need someone talented at healing, and I¡¯ve certainly never seen anyone better than you. If you can¡¯t use your healing light, then you¡¯ll simply be charged as designated potion carrier. Do we have a deal?¡± He held out his hand.
What was the worst that could happen? ¡°Deal,¡± she said. Did a handshake count if you were wearing gloves? Certainly, it couldn¡¯t be held to the same level of accountability as an ungloved handshake. If things went sideways, she¡¯d just continue with her previous plan. Run away.
PROLOGUE: PART IV THE PROLOGUES PREQUEL
Everything was working as planned. So far. Which wasn¡¯t very far, to be honest. In fact, to be really, truthfully, honest, there really wasn¡¯t anything that could have gone wrong yet. But it could. It could go very wrong, very fast, once he stepped through those doors.
¡°Kendrik?¡±
He stood, taking a deep bow and flourishing his hat. ¡°Yes, madam?¡±
¡°They¡¯re ready for you, sir.¡±
Sir. She had called him sir. ¡°Thank you, my dear.¡± He grinned and winked at the pretty girl. Well, pretty enough. She blushed and curtseyed as he walked past. Just keep grinning. People will either think you¡¯re crazy, confident, or that you know something they don¡¯t. Probably they won¡¯t be able to decide which, and it¡¯ll make them treat you like all three together. That little piece of advice had come from a toothless tramp in Vilmeir. Who would take grinning advice from a toothless tramp? Hurmf, that¡¯s who.
The room was darkish. A few candles on the desks of the interviewers. Would they be able to see his grin? His perfectly disheveled hat?
¡°Ah, Kendrik, welcome. Please, have a seat.¡± The old woman was motioning to a simple chair that sat in the middle of the round room. Aside from her, there were two others sitting behind ornate wooden desks, covered with papers, scrolls, and all manner of curious baubles. They looked tired. He sat in the chair.
¡°Ahherm¡¡± That was the older man in the middle, holding aloft a thick sheaf of papers which he appeared to be scrutinizing. ¡°Well, well..¡± He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Bright light flooded the room, seeming to come from everywhere. ¡°Mmm...better¡¡±
¡°Kendrik,¡± came the third voice, a middle-aged man on the left with an impressive black goatee. ¡°In reviewing your application, I must admit that we find ourselves a bit on the skeptical side.¡± Straight to the point. He liked this guy.
Grinning, he gave the man a wink, ¡°You¡¯d be crazy not to be skeptical. I wouldn¡¯t believe any of it myself if I hadn¡¯t been there. Let me tell you, it¡¯s an honor to be sitting here. I¡¯ve long wished to be able to work for The Society.¡±
¡°Ahhermmm...no doubt¡¡± the old grump was still perusing the first page.
¡°May I ask,¡± the old woman started, then stopped as he flashed his grin in her direction, ¡°What I mean to say is, could you explain to us the nature of your relationship with the Duke of Hilmberg?¡±
¡°Hibbert? That old scamp.¡± Grinning and shaking his head, he started in as if to tell a long story, ¡°I remember when I first met him. Such a strong lad, though naive. But he had the spark, you know? I hired him to carry the bags when we set out to the Fort Morid excavation. You may remember that-¡±
¡°Kendrik, we¡¯ve read your application. It¡¯s practically an encyclopedia of adventures and heroic deeds. What Lady Danesh wants to know is how can we be expected to believe that the Duke of Hilmberg was once your companion?¡±
¡°Ah, well, I don¡¯t expect you to believe anything,¡± he came back, not missing a beat, or breaking his grin. ¡°You can ask the man himself. When we split our earnings from the ancient relics we acquired at For Morid, we all became exceptionally wealthy. Hibbert was never made for the adventuring life, so when the old Duke of Hilmberg died without an heir, I suppose he took the opportunity to stake a claim. Not my business what he does, but politics is certainly not something I¡¯d care to waste my money on.¡±
The three glared at him. He grinned back. Word in the backstreets of Hilmberg was that the new duke, Lord Hibbert, appeared out of nowhere when the old duke died. He was extremely secretive. If the beggars of Hilmberg couldn¡¯t even find out where the man had come from, it was unlikely The Society could. He knew full well that they¡¯d probably already discovered this. It was his word, with no competing narrative.
¡°And, ahemmm¡ What, aherrmrmm¡ Happened to your share?¡±
¡°That is another exciting tale, though not one with monsters, traps, and maidens, I¡¯m afraid. You see,¡± The man and woman on either side of him gave him a glare, ¡°Well, to make a long story short, I must admit that I have a bit of a gambling problem. Nothing quite like the thrill of rolling the dice.¡± This put all three of them at ease. There was nothing powerful people liked more in their pawns than an exploitable weakness.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
¡°You are rather quick to point out the exceptional skills of your fellows, but I can¡¯t find a trace of a hint of any of your own abilities throughout these pages. Is this not an application for your entrance into The Society?¡±
He had been very careful not to make any claims of skill or ability that he could not easily demonstrate should it be asked. Word on the streets of Caliphas was that The Society was currently looking not for muscle, but leadership. Those pages were drenched with leadership, and he knew that they knew it.
¡°Yes, it¡¯s true, I myself have very little to offer The Society. Except one thing.¡± All three leaned just a little closer. ¡°Luck.¡±
The man on the left snorted. ¡°It¡¯s hardly lucky to lose all of your wealth to dice.¡±
He waited, grin unwavering. ¡°Indeed,¡± the old woman agreed, ¡°What is so lucky about a man that has gone on so many glamorous adventures with nothing to show?¡±
Still grinning, he nodded slightly. ¡°Hrmm, yes, yes, hrrmrrmm...Umm, would you care to, eh, ummmerrmmm¡. Elaborate?¡±
¡°I would,¡± he said, nodding graciously to the old man seated behind the center desk. ¡°It¡¯s true, my fortunes of fortune are less than admirable, but my luck in life is undeniable. Through all of these dangers and challenges, I emerged, not unscathed, but undoubtedly alive. Every time I have picked a crew, each one had some unique experience that was paramount to our survival. If I had erred, even once, I and many others would be long since deceased.¡±
He rolled up his left sleeve. ¡°This scar is from a basilisk¡¯s fang. It barely scratched me, and I was able to suck out the poison quickly. Half an inch closer and I¡¯d be a statue.¡± Pointing to another scar, ¡°This, a bolt from a crossbow, wielded by a Dwagar.¡± He chuckled. ¡°It ruined the jeweled bangle I was wearing, but barely pierced my skin. I¡¯ve a hundred more like it I could show you, each one with a story. Some mundane, some fantastic, but each could have been deadly if not for my luck.¡±
They were listening. ¡°I may not be the most dexterous dueler, strapping strongarm, or fleetest footpad, but I am a survivor. When terror surrounds, crushing hopes and breading despair, my soul demands not just to live, but to thrive. The only thing more exciting than gambling with dice and gold is gambling with life, and when it comes to that particular kind of luck, I have never lost. It is that quality which led each of these exploits to a happy ending. That is what I have to offer The Society.¡±
The man on the left sighed. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯ll do.¡±
¡°Agreed.¡±
¡°Hrm¡ yes, I think so.¡±
¡°Kendrik, welcome to The Society.¡± The words made him want to smile, but he was already grinning. ¡°We bestow upon you the title of Initiate. To advance to full membership within The Society, you must first complete a contract of The Committee''s choosing. We have one ready, which the three of us have agreed to hand over to you should we find you acceptable.¡± The middle-aged man held out a scroll. He rose from the chair and accepted it.
¡°Be sure to follow the instructions to the letter. You will meet with the benefactor in one week from today with your crew. Upon his acceptance, the benefactor will provide you with the customary advancement of fifty gold per member to spend on expeditionary equipment as you deem necessary.¡±
He bowed, ¡°Thank you for your confidence in me. You won¡¯t regret it.¡±
¡°Hrmmm ermmm yeess¡.¡±
¡°I certainly hope not, Initiate.¡±
It was clear from their stares that the meeting was over. He turned and left without delay. These kinds of people appreciated action. It was, of course, all a show.
The plan was going smoothly. That was because the plan was simple. After spending the better part of thirty years travelling from town to town, country to country, begging for coppers and eating table scraps from slop heaps, he¡¯d finally decided he¡¯d had enough. So Hurmf saved his money until he could buy some clothes that, while used and somewhat ratty, looked exactly like what a member of The Society fresh from an adventure would wear. The hat was the selling point, of course. It had undoubtedly been expensive at one point. Now it was barely worth the handful of coppers he¡¯d paid for it. The only person who would wear such a piece of garbage was someone who had attached sentimental value to it. Someone like an adventurer.
The only risky part of the plan was the lies, of which there weren¡¯t many, and they would be difficult, if not impossible, to validate. These were balanced out by the truths. Hurmf did indeed have quirky luck, and while he didn¡¯t have a hundred scars, he did have nearly two dozen. They were not from the likes of basilisks or Dwagar, but each one was a memory of a brush with certain death.
Hurmf had never been on an adventure. He had never met the Duke of Hilmberg, or even heard his name. He had come up with Hibbert because no one knew the Duke¡¯s name. He was a mystery, and powerful enough to remain so. A fact that Hurmf had taken advantage of. Confidence had convinced them, or at least given their doubts pause. Whether or not they had actually believed his stories didn¡¯t matter. They had given him the contract.
And now, best of all, he was no longer Hurmf. He was Kendrik. Kendrik unrolled the scroll and read the details. Interesting. This was going to be easier than he thought.
CHAPTER I: FINAL ADDENDUM TO THE PROLOGUE
Laren Phelax suppressed a frown as the motley crew of adventurers shuffled into his study. He could practically smell them from behind his large, exquisitely decorated Romini desk. The place would probably have to be cleaned and incense lit once they left. Such was the price of working with The Society. It had better be worth it.
¡°Welcome!¡± He stood and bowed to the three figures, trying not to be annoyed that they had come lacking one member. The hooded one must be a priestess, certainly. The healer he¡¯d demanded, no doubt. The one with the hat, what a nasty thing that was, undoubtedly their leader, Kendrik. He¡¯d been warned about that one. The big fellow wearing hardly any clothing except what appeared to be the skins of animals, one with the head still attached and worn as a cloak, must be their warrior. The man didn¡¯t appear to be armed, however, not to mention that his overwhelming manliness was nearly ruined by the spectacles which sat on his nose. Curious. But what of their burglar?
¡°Thank you, Master Phelax, we are pleased to be at your service.¡± Now he suppressed a grimace, as the shoddy man bowed and swept his hat around in a rather nonsensical manner. The woman curtsied, the large man nodded and--by the gods! The rug on his back was alive! The thing¡¯s large eyes blinked and three long claws raised to wave at him. Slowly. Was that their burglar?
¡°Yes, of course. I see that you have gathered the necessary members of your party. Have you any word from the fifth?¡±
¡°Fifth?¡± Blasted Society, what had they put in that contract? And did that filthy man ever stop grinning? Was he insane?
¡°Yes, I specifically requested that a full member of The Society accompany you. They promised to send a wizard of some experience to make sure things went smoothly.¡±
¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve heard nothing of this wizard.¡± That grin seemed to be saying that he did indeed know something about the wizard. What was this fool not telling him? Laren Phelax was about to call him on the bluff when a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
¡°Sir, Master Laetimus has arrived,¡± the servant that had opened the study room door barely finished speaking when an older gentleman pushed past him and exploded like a whirlwind on the scene.
¡°Ah! Ha! Here we are, then! Ah, late am I? I see, then. Sorry about that, then. Well!¡± The thickly robed man was stroking his long white beard as he circled around the room, peering at everything and everyone as he continued speaking. ¡°You must be Kendrik! Yes, nice to meet you lad. Very promising, very promising indeed,¡± he mentioned, studying the frayed plume, barely recognizable as a feather at all, which protruded from Kendrik¡¯s hat.
¡°Master Laetimus, thank you for joining us. I was just asking--¡±
¡°What? Yes! Yes, of course, no need to bother yourself, Master Phelax. I do apologize for my tardiness. Was stuck in the Fourth Realm these last few days. Barely escaped not ten minutes ago. You¡¯ll understand if I¡¯d like to find a bath before we head out, Master Kendrik?¡±
¡°Uh, yes, of cour--¡± was that grin actually faltering?
¡°Yes, yes, well then.¡± He lifted the hood of the priestess and peered into her eyes, ¡°Yes, of course then. I¡¯ll be on my way. Don¡¯t bother with my pay advancement, I¡¯ve supplies enough. I¡¯ll meet you three--oh god¡¯s bogs, is that a weresloth? My, then, yes, I¡¯ll meet you four at the crossroads just South of the Vermot ruins. I highly recommend you take the Western road to get there. In any case, I¡¯ve some studying to do, and of course a bath. Good day sirs, madam!¡±
And then Laetimus vanished. A teleportation spell. The old fool had teleported right out of Laren Phelax¡¯s study without so much as a ¡°by your leave¡±. The group in the study stood quietly for some few moments, the wizards passing still shocking them, like some force of nature that could be endured, but neither withstood or understood.
Clearing his throat, Laren Phelax began again. ¡°Well, then, I suppose your contract has given you the necessary details, but just to make sure, let me stress to you that the artifacts which you are retrieving are not of particular value to anyone but myself. If not handled properly, you may find them to be quite dangerous.¡± He stressed the word, hoping they got his meaning. ¡°Bring me anything you find. I¡¯ll keep the items I need, and the rest will be yours to do with as you please.¡±
¡°Have no fear, Master Phelax, I give you my word that we shall do everything within our power to see these items delivered to you as quickly as the situation permits, and in the same state in which we find them.¡± A clever man, this Kendrik, covering his bases like that. Very well, it would have to be enough.
¡°Glad to hear it. Then there is only one last matter to attend to.¡± Feeling sick to his stomach, Laren Phelax picked up the small bag of coins on his desk. It was not parting with money that dismayed him so, it was that he would have to actually approach these filthy plebs and could quite possibly make physical contact if he wasn¡¯t careful.
Walking around the desk he reached into the bag and pulled out five large coins with a bright, polished metal sheen to them. He held his hand out and Kendrik lifted his own. Dropping the coins from a safe distance into the upturned palm of the wretched man, Laren Phelax reached into the bag and pulled out five more coins, which he offered to the woman. She too held out a hand and he dropped the coins into it.
Next was the barbarian. He could feel his nose twitching as he stepped closer to the giant man. Was that stench the man or the weresloth on his back? The coins clinked deliciously as they fell into the massive palm. It was the creature¡¯s turn, and Laren Phelax realized he couldn¡¯t just drop the coins into the thief¡¯s hand. Holding the coins in his own palm, he held it out towards the beast.
An eternity stretched out before him as three long claws slowly, so very slowly, reached out and carefully grasped a single coin, paused, then cautiously carried the coin at nearly imperceptible speed to a pouch on the weresloth¡¯s waist. It must have been another minute before the claws returned to the outstretched hand to retrieve the second coin. Time had completely frozen, it seemed, as this coin made the infinite journey to the pouch.
Laren Phelax was patient. Very patient. This, however, was too much. He could just put the coins in that pouch himself. But then the thought of touching anything attached to this miserable half-person so revolted him that he became determined to wait out the unrelentingly slow process.
Finally, after what felt like weeks, the yellow claws reached for the last coin. The moment he felt the weight of the thick coin lift from his palm, Loren Phelax snapped the hand away and turned back to his desk. ¡°Well, then. I expect to hear from you soon, Master Kendrik. Do be careful.¡± The man bowed and whipped his hat around in that haphazard manner once again. ¡°Oh, and one more thing. Laetimus mentioned taking the Western route from town to Vermot. I would suggest you go North, instead. The Western route is bound to be swamped by the rains this time of year, but the decision is yours to make. Good luck.¡±
The party shuffled out in a rather disastrous manner. Laren Phelax called out to his servant before the door closed. ¡°Yes, sir?¡±
¡°I¡¯d like to take a bath, please. And have someone light some incense in here.¡±
¡°Very good, sir.¡±
Kendrik was furious. Things had been going so well. He¡¯d found Grimrod, who easily passed as a warrior with that natural frame of his, and yet was most certainly not a warrior. Dangerous, no doubt, if he was angry and got his hands on a table, but unlikely to be a problem in the long run. He had gone through pains to find Tyboloth. A rogue with such uniquely abhorrent speed would never bother even trying to hunt someone down. The priestess had been quite literally a miracle, not only because she saved Kendrik and Tyboloth, but also because she was the most perfectly cursed outcast intent on disappearing.
If that meeting had gone as planned, in one week Kendrik would be living a quiet life in a nice little town on the Eastern coast of Averion. Once when passing through there he¡¯d met a nice old couple who were willing to rent out their attic for a measly five silver a month.
If Laren Phelax had given him all of the money, as he was supposed to, according to their contract, Kendrik would have had two-hundred gold coins worth of platinum. He could live for thirty years on that! It wouldn¡¯t be a particularly luxurious lifestyle, of course, but a bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, and money to buy fresh food every day was utopia to a man who barely needed both hands to count the number of days he¡¯d had any of one of those things.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
He glared at the five fat platinum coins in his hand. It was more money than he¡¯d seen in his entire lifetime. Running was still an option. A year or two of relaxing, then he could get a job and make up the difference. The idea of working the rest of his life wasn¡¯t particularly more attractive than the alternative of begging the rest of his life. Maybe he¡¯d just pocket the coins, go back to begging, and know that any time he needed a break he could spend a day or two eating hot meals and sleeping in an inn¡¯s bed.
No, his treasure would most likely end up stolen. There was, of course, a third option: fulfill the contract. He was no adventurer, and neither were his companions, but with Laetimus there to assist, it might end up being easy enough to complete, and then he¡¯d get the second half of the payment. A hundred gold coins still wasn¡¯t two hundred, but, if he was being honest, the likelihood of him living more than another fifteen years wasn¡¯t good anyway. Besides, maybe they¡¯d find some other objects worth selling in those ruins.
This was all assuming that the others even showed up. They had split up to purchase supplies and were to meet back at the inn. That priestess had been running away when they met her. This was the perfect opportunity for her to do just that. Tybol was no adventurer, but he was a thief. He¡¯d likely try and slip away. Grim was a complete mystery. If Tybol did slip away, he may feel it best to do the same.
That settled it. Kendrik would buy some supplies, maybe a weapon, just to look the part, and then head back to the inn. If the others showed up, which he was certain they wouldn¡¯t, then he would do his best to complete the contract. If they didn¡¯t, he could walk away and no one would blame him.
Nancy was elated. Who could have guessed that joining up with those circus clowns would make her so rich so quickly? Five platinum! The goddess was smiling on her today, rewarding her for sacrificing herself to heal those villagers. Now she could move on somewhere and start a comfortable new life.
She wandered the marketplace where the ¡°party¡± had split up to purchase supplies. There were several tailor shops and she was anxious to purchase new clothing. Too long she had gone day in, day out, wearing those infernal robes. She wanted to try on dresses, skirts, and pants. She bought a couple of each, with several blouses and even a few boy¡¯s shirts. And three good, hooded cloaks. Finally, she stopped by a little traveler¡¯s shop and found a pack for carrying her new wardrobe. As she was checking out, a little dagger on the shelf behind the counter caught her eye.
¡°I¡¯ll take that dagger as well, sir.¡± The young boy counting her coins went wide-eyed. ¡°A gift, for my husband.¡± He smiled and nodded. More like a gift for any brigands that attempted to accost her on the roads. This unusual arrangement with Kendrik and the others may have paid off, but that didn¡¯t mean she could trust just anyone. She didn¡¯t even trust them.
No doubt they had already skipped town. Nancy had never seen a more shady bunch of individuals. Of course, she wasn¡¯t shady. She was honest. Well, honest when it suited her to be. The goddess could forgive her little lies if they got her out of trouble, or stopped nosy shopkeeps from asking questions. However, a contract was a contract. Nancy fully intended to return to the inn this evening. When the others didn¡¯t show up, as she knew they wouldn¡¯t, then she would be free.
Tyboloth was annoyed. Those five platinum coins were burning up in his pocket. While he appreciated getting to ride on Grimrod¡¯s shoulders, the arrangement certainly had its inconveniences. Every time they entered a store, Grim would say, ¡°Let me know you want buy something.¡± But by the time Tyboloth had spied something interesting and managed to open his mouth to speak, the barbarian would have left the shop.
It hardly mattered, really. He already had all of the tools he would need, and even some food left in one of his pouches. In his sloth form, he rarely needed to eat anyway. But there was the occasional item of interest that he would have at least liked to look at.
All of this was irritating enough, but the real problem was that Tyboloth wanted more than anything to simply vanish altogether. He considered dropping from the large man¡¯s back, but undoubtedly the brute would notice, and there was no chance of outrunning him in this form. He could try and talk to the man, convince him to bail out as well, but he seemed to be Kendrik¡¯s loyal bodyguard. He sighed. Slowly.
Five platinum. Fifty gold. Five hundred silver. Five thousand coppers. Tyboloth had spent a lifetime fencing stolen items and never managed to quite reach that amount. Today it had literally been handed to him. For doing nothing. And he was stuck on the stinky, sweaty back of this beastly man, going somewhere he really didn¡¯t want to go.
If he could turn into his normal self things would be different, but he had yet to discover what triggered his transformations, let alone learning to control them. There really was nothing for it. He was well and truly stuck going on this awful mission with these awful people. Then again, things could always be worse. Best to just swim with the current for now.
¡°Hey, Grim.¡± He said slowly. ¡°Thanks for the ride, buddy.¡± The big man just grunted.
Grimrod was confused. That man they had gone to see spoke very quickly. The wizard which had interrupted them spoke even more quickly. He hadn¡¯t been able to make heads or tails of the whole ordeal. Now he was tasked with getting supplies for some journey. It would be prudent for him to simply abandon these people altogether. His money concerns were solved with the coins he now carried in his satchel. There was just one snag: Tyboloth.
The weresloth could hardly stop him from running away, but he could snitch on him, and unsavory characters like Tybol would do just that. Grimrod may already have people looking for revenge against him because of the tavern incident in Caliphas, he didn¡¯t need wizards and the kind of people that commanded them looking for him as well.
Besides, the most likely course of events was that he and Tybol would return to the inn, wait for the others, whom he seriously doubted would show up, and then they could return their money to the man who had given it to them. No one to come looking for him then.
Money that had been spent couldn¡¯t be returned, which was why Grimrod moved quickly through the marketplace, not giving the poor weresloth on his back a chance to buy anything. He wasn¡¯t going to buy anything either. If by some miracle the others did show up at the inn, he had some basic supplies, purchased with what was left of the two gold coins Kendrik had given him. Unfortunately, it was not enough to purchase a real weapon. Fortunately, the odds of him needing any such thing were as close to zero as made no difference.
By this time tomorrow, he¡¯d be on his way home to Beirnjold. He¡¯d even let Tybol accompany him if he wanted.
The Copper Cauldron was a large inn. The common room had several tables seated around a central fireplace which opened on three sides. It was very fancy, if a bit dark in the corners. Kendrik was happy for those dark corners. After paying for two rooms, as he¡¯d promised the others he would, he picked a seat at the table farthest from the door, where it was quite dark.
On the off chance that one of his companions did return to the inn, maybe they wouldn¡¯t notice him and, finding no others arriving, would themselves disappear into the night. He sipped his beer and ate his meal slowly, becoming calmer by the minute.
He almost didn¡¯t recognize Nancy when she came in. She had changed her clothes and was carrying a pack. Did she really intend to go through with this? The young woman picked a chair at the table in the opposite corner, hiding in the shadows the same way he was. Ah, so that was it. Kendrik made sure not to look in her direction again. If they never made eye contact, then they could claim to have not seen each other. Sneaky.
It might have worked, too, if Grim hadn¡¯t walked in a few minutes later and sat down right next to the fire. The big man was hard enough to ignore as it was, but now¡ Kendrik glanced at Nancy. She was staring right back at him. She shrugged, he sighed, they both stood and made their way to the barbarian¡¯s table.
Grim¡¯s surprise at seeing them was palpable. Kendrik sat down across from him, grinning. ¡°Well, we¡¯re all here now. I¡¯ve reserved a room for the lady, and one for the men. We should probably get going early, so I suggest we all get to sleep sooner than later.¡±
¡°Which way?¡± Tyboloth asked.
¡°Up the stairs,¡± Kendrik replied, nodding to the stairs which led up to the rooms.
¡°No, which way are we going to travel?¡±
For the first time, and much to everyone¡¯s surprise, Kendrik¡¯s grin dropped, his face seeming to contemplate the question. ¡°Which way indeed. Well, we have two options. Laetimus suggested the Western route. It¡¯s shorter by a day, but as Master Phelax mentioned, the road runs through some marshes. If it rains enough, the road will flood. We may end up trudging through swamps and not saving any time.
¡°On the other hand, the Northern road, suggested by Master Phelax, passes around the marshlands, over some hilly grasslands. Personally, I¡¯ve never been that way. It¡¯ll take an extra day, at least.¡±
¡°Unless it rains too much,¡± Nancy pointed out. Kendrik nodded.
¡°Rainy swamp or grassy hills?¡± Asked Grimrod. Kendrik nodded again. ¡°Grassy hills.¡±
Kendrik looked at Nancy. ¡°What are the odds it rains that much, though? And even if it does, what¡¯s a bit of water? I¡¯d rather chance getting there quicker, myself.¡±
¡°It¡¯s all the same to me, but for Grim¡¯s sake, I¡¯ll say hills.¡± What did the weresloth care, since he¡¯d be getting a ride either way?
¡°Well, I¡¯ve been through the marshlands, even during the rains, and it¡¯s not that bad. I¡¯m going to have to agree with Nancy. It¡¯s worth the chance of saving a day.¡± The sooner this was all over, the better.
¡°Two and two,¡± Grimrod observed, then reached into his satchel and produced one of the platinum coins. ¡°Heads, hills. Tails, swamp.¡± Then he flipped it into the air. It landed with a heavy thud on the table and they all stared. Grim picked up the coin and they all headed up the stairs.
AUTHORS NOTE [Reader Poll]
Well, my dear readers, what do you think of these ¡°noble¡± heroes thus far? Surely you can see how wretchedly reckless they were, as they set out on a journey that would determine the fate of our fair world. And how did they determine the route they would run? What was the nature of their navigation? A coin toss! What dumb luck it must be that we have survived the blight of such adventurers thus far. Surely the primal beings that reside in the Outer Realms are laughing at the sheer coincidence of it all. But now, my dear readers, can you guess which way the coin landed?A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
CHAPTER II: GETTING LUCKY
A sound woke Grimrod. It took him a moment to realize what the sound was. ¡°Time to wake?¡± he asked, trying to whisper but failing miserably.
¡°Yes. The sooner we get going the better.¡± Kendrik continued dressing in the dark. Grimrod hated mornings almost as much as he hated morning people. Sitting up he stretched and accidentally knocked the unlit candlestick from the table beside the bed. In the middle of pulling on a boot, Kendrik reached out and just barely missed catching it. He did manage to stumble and fall to the floor, however. The resulting clamor made the barbarian cringe.
¡°Noisy much?¡± Grimrod pointed at the collapsed man, who was pointing back at him. Tybol chuckled. Slowly. ¡°Wake me when you¡¯re ready.¡±
Shaking his head, the big man stood up. ¡°Nancy be wake now, no doubt.¡±
¡°Better the noise wakes her than either of us, friend.¡± The man¡¯s grinning teeth practically glowed in the dark room. He was probably right. Grimrod didn¡¯t know a lot about women, but he did know they liked their sleep. His brothers had taught him the importance of waking their sister with a stick. The longer the better.
Grimrod picked up his satchel and shouldered it. Then he picked up the sloth-man by the scruff of the neck and placed him on his back. Tybol naturally hung onto his shoulders. He might even still be sleeping. The weresloth¡¯s ability to sleep while gripping impressed the giant man. ¡°We ready.¡±
¡°Wait, now, I¡¯m almost ready.¡± Kendrik was still missing a boot and in the middle of buckling things on. Grimrod didn¡¯t wait.
¡°I get us food,¡± he said, leaving the room. As he passed Nancy¡¯s door it opened a crack and she peeked out.
¡°Grim? What¡¯s going on? I thought the inn was under attack.¡±
¡°No, Kendrik fall down. I get us food.¡±
The young woman rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll be down in a bit.¡±
It was more than a bit. Even Tybol was mostly done eating by the time Nancy came down the stairs, dressed in a boy¡¯s trousers and shirt, with a dagger belted to her hip. If it hadn¡¯t been for the deeply hooded cloak she wore in the still dark inn, he wouldn¡¯t have realized it was her. Kendrik was, presumably, still almost ready. Grimrod had been sure to buy some good food, wanting to start this journey out on a full stomach. He thought the others might appreciate the same. There was a bowl of fruits, some bread, a pitcher of juice, and even some butter on the table. Nancy¡¯s eyes did not hide her excitement.
¡°I approve, Grim!¡±
¡°Thank you. Jerky, nuts, water for many days. Eat good now.¡± She smiled and nodded, while he hoped he hadn¡¯t said anything stupid. The one thing he tried to find in the market last night had completely eluded him: a Common dictionary. If the only thing he got out of this venture was experience learning Common, he¡¯d be pleased, but it seemed that every time he spoke, no one ever corrected him. Neither did they have any difficulty understanding him. He was certainly speaking in broken grammar and using the wrong words from time to time. Then why did no one seem to notice?
¡°Ah, I see you¡¯ve started without me. I¡¯m glad. I do apologize for taking so long.¡± What had taken him so long? And where had he appeared from so quickly? ¡°Well, let¡¯s not dally any longer. We¡¯ll take what¡¯s left and eat on the way.¡± Something was definitely wrong. Kendrik seemed a little off his usual charm. The others seemed to sense it as well, staring at him, no one moving. ¡°Come on then!¡± He hissed, ¡°Let¡¯s not waste any more time.¡± Throwing a cloth sack onto the bowl of fruit, he picked up the jug of juice and with a few gulps had finished what was left.
Grimrod took the hint and picked up the bag, dumping the few apples and pears into it. As he did so Tybol reached out to him and began climbing onto his back. Nancy got the hint and stood, slung her pack, then grabbed the half loaf of leftover bread.
As the group moved towards the entrance, Grimrod asked, ¡°What wrong, Kendrik?¡¯
¡°Wrong? Nothing¡¯s wrong. We should just get moving as quickly as we can.¡±
¡°Did you do something we should know about?¡± Nancy¡¯s glare was hard, but Kendrik just grinned back. The barbarian wanted to knock that grin off his face, but as they reached the doors he realized what was going on.
The wind could be heard even before the latch was drawn and the door opened. It was soon thrown wide by a sudden gust. ¡°I just chanced to glance outside while getting dressed and thought it best if we get ahead of this storm.¡±
Dust blew through the streets as the four would-be adventurers scurried through the town. When they reached the outskirts the drops began to fall. Grimrod looked to the skies. The sun had yet to rise and already the coming storm was beating back what light had begun to creep over the Eastern mountains. Dark clouds were blowing in from the South.
¡°Rain.¡± He mumbled. He hated rain.
¡°Come, Grim, don¡¯t tell me a big guy like you is afraid of a little water?¡± It was time to smash that insufferable grin into pieces.
¡°Kendrik,¡± Nancy put a hand on Grimrod¡¯s arm, saving the smaller man¡¯s face, ¡°Grim has a point. Do you think we should change our plans?¡±
The man removed his hat and looked up at the sky, his grin fading into a grimace momentarily. ¡°The storm is moving Northward. It¡¯ll be following us for the next few hours, but once we reach the crossroads ahead, we¡¯ll be turning West. I still think it best if we follow the road into the marshes.¡±
¡°I agree,¡± Tybol said. Slowly. ¡°Fate picked our path. It¡¯s bad luck to go against that.¡±
¡°We¡¯ve got time to see how this weather develops. For now, let¡¯s move on and see if we can¡¯t stay ahead of it a little longer.¡± The grin and the hat were firmly back in place as he turned and continued onward. Nancy looked up at Grimrod, pulling her hand away as she followed Kendrik. He turned and looked Tyboloth in the eye, only inches away.
¡°Sorry, Grim,¡± the weresloth whispered. ¡°I really do think it¡¯s bad luck, though.¡± He shrugged, gently, and looked up the road at the two figures walking away. Well, even if the marshlands did flood, at least he had longer legs than the others. It might be therapeutic to see their mad leader wading through the filthy waters. He hoped to be so lucky.
For the first hour the rains were a sporadic, light sprinkle, while the roads remained solid beneath their feet. Halfway through the second hour, that began to change. The road became mud as the small drops turned to fat ones, and the light sprinkle shifted to a constant drizzle. Kendrik led them from the road into the tall grass that grew alongside it, to keep the mud from gathering on the three pairs of boots.
Tybol was once again surprised at the man¡¯s versatility. Not only did the odd character have a confident knowledge of the local geography, but he also demonstrated experience with travel in adverse weather. And an understanding of that weather¡¯s patterns. Impressive that he had been able to see the need to leave quickly to stay ahead of this storm for as long as possible.
Fwwwip. Some grass nearby rustled. In this rain, it was unlikely the others noticed. What was that sound? Tybol began turning his head to look behind them. Fwwwip. With his head turned completely around, he could see four dark figures in the distance. One was drawing back a bow.
¡°Hey,¡± the bow let loose, the arrow soaring high through the rain, until a gust of wind carried it off course; ¡°every,¡± the archer drew another arrow, pulled back on the bow, let loose; ¡°one,¡± the arrow stuck in the mud, ten feet behind them; ¡°there,¡± now another one of the figures was stringing a bow, while the first let loose again; ¡°are¡± this time the arrow came very close, passing between Grimrod and Nancy.
His world spun as the big man turned. ¡°Bandits!¡± he called out.
¡°Exactly,¡± Tybol said, looking now at Kendrik.
¡°What? How?¡± Their hatted leader looked back at the figures with surprise, then spun back around. ¡°Quickly, now. To the top of the hill.¡± He sprinted.
¡°We¡¯ve been walking for hours and now you want me to run up a hill?¡± Another arrow stuck in the mud not five feet from Nancy. ¡°Oh, well, fine.¡± She ran.
Tybol once again found himself looking back at the distant figures, though the view was a bouncy one. They seemed to have realized they¡¯d been spotted and had given up on firing at them. After a few seconds, he realized they were moving much faster than his own little group. ¡°They¡¯re going to catch up,¡± he said. Slowly.
¡°We go faster. Grab tight.¡± The weresloth locked his arms around the barbarian¡¯s neck, who then picked up his pace considerably. As they passed the priestess he reached over and put one arm around her waist, then lifted the girl clear from the ground. She screamed first in surprise, then in annoyance as the tall grasses whipped at her face.
¡°We¡¯re almost there, friends,¡± Kendrik called back to them, sounding like he was some ways ahead. Turning his head back around, Tybol caught sight of Kendrik, about fifty feet away, just before he disappeared over the top of the hill. The man was a surprisingly good runner. Grimrod, on the other hand, while moving at an impressive speed considering the circumstances, was starting to breathe heavily. At this rate he might just collapse when they reached the top. What then?
¡°Bandits!¡± The cry came from Kendrik as he appeared once again, coming over the hilltop along with a couple more arrows. They barely missed the man, and Grimrod dropped Nancy as he instinctively ducked, the missiles whizzing overhead. A cry came from behind. Could they really be so lucky?
¡°You monster! Picking me up, just to toss me to the ground!¡± Kendrik was there, helping her up.
¡°On your feet, princess.¡±
¡°Down,¡± Grimrod said, pushing Kendrik to the ground along with the girl. The four of them lay down in the tall grass as shouts of anger came from uphill and downhill. More arrows whizzed overhead, moving in both directions. ¡°Why they fight? Not ambush?¡±
¡°Ah, well, I guess not.¡± The grin was back.
¡°You can¡¯t fool everyone,¡± Nancy said, glaring at the man.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
¡°What do you mean?¡±
¡°I saw the way you reacted when those men started shooting at us. Like you¡¯d been caught.¡± Kendrik¡¯s widening eyes gave him away. ¡°So, that¡¯s the real reason you were in such a hurry to leave this morning. What did you steal from them?¡±
¡°No, no, it¡¯s not like that!¡± Fwwwip. The arrow stuck in the ground not two feet from the feathered hat. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later. We need to move.¡± He was right. The arrows were still flying, but the sound of approaching bandits could be heard from both directions.
Grimrod nodded. ¡°Which way?¡± Kendrik pointed West, away from the road. ¡°Stay low.¡± The barbarian got into a crouch and moved swiftly through the grass. The man was too big to stay completely hidden, but as Tyboloth looked behind them, he could see that it wouldn¡¯t be necessary. What was left of the two groups of attackers had converged right where the group had been hiding seconds ago. Luckily, they were ignoring the four of them. For now.
Tybol glanced down at Nancy, who was directly behind him. She looked surprisingly bored given the situation. ¡°Hello, Lady.¡± She glared at him, now looking annoyed.
¡°Enjoying the ride?¡±
¡°Quite.¡±
¡°Think they¡¯ll catch us?¡± Was that a hint of excitement in her eyes?
The weresloth stretched his neck out to get a better look at the action. It seemed there was only one of their original attackers left, dressed completely in black. The slope was covered with more colorfully dressed bodies, stuck with arrows. The few bandits that remained from the up-hill group were quickly falling to his smooth, quick movements.
¡°One of them will,¡± the weresloth finally said. Slowly. That one was no thug, either. Tybol was starting to like these people. He didn¡¯t want them to die, and he didn¡¯t want to die, but if that man caught up to them, that¡¯s exactly what would happen. Tyboloth was nothing if not practical. And small. With a natural camouflage. ¡°Nancy, keep everyone moving.¡± She looked at him with curiosity but nodded.
Slowly, Tybol unlatched himself from Grimrod and fell to the ground. Nancy moved around him, Kendrik following her without even noticing him. He heard Grim¡¯s voice, but Nancy succeeded in keeping them moving. He wondered what she¡¯d told them. He also wondered what she thought he was doing. She was going to be disappointed if she thought he had some heroic plan. Luckily, she wouldn¡¯t be disappointed for long.
The trio stopped at a patch of dogwood. Grimrod seemed worried. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Grim, he said to keep moving.¡± The big man grunted. Nancy wondered how long the odd pair had been together. Maybe it was just the way Tybol clung to the barbarian, but the two seemed to really care for each other.
¡°Not Tybol. That,¡± the man said, pointing.
¡°I don¡¯t like the look of it either, big guy.¡± And yet he was still grinning.
¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Nancy glanced towards the road again. It was difficult to tell through the rain, but it looked like a small battle had taken place. Bodies littered the hillside, a single survivor walking slowly towards them through the grass. ¡°The idiots slaughtered each other. There¡¯s only one of them left. Isn¡¯t that a good thing?¡±
¡°One man. Many dead.¡±
¡°Astute as always, Grim.¡±
She didn¡¯t get it. Wasn¡¯t one man tired from fighting better than a horde of bandits? She could probably deal with him on her own at this point. Dropping her back and drawing her dagger drew looks from the others. Then they simultaneously broke into laughter.
¡°What? Why are you laughing?¡±
¡°Nancy, I admire your courage, really I do,¡± the grin was at peak insufferability, ¡°but that man just single-handedly killed at least ten men.¡±
¡°So one bandit got luckier than the others. I have the goddess herself watching over me.¡±
The grin disappeared and Kendrik sighed. ¡°Look, that¡¯s no common bandit.¡± She and Grim stared at him, waiting. ¡°He¡¯s an assassin. Back at the inn, as I was leaving the room I heard some noise in the room next door. Whispers. The door was open, so I peeked in. Those four men were there, and so were three dead bodies. They saw me, but luckily I had bought a shortsword the night before. I pulled the door shut and jammed it through the handle and into the frame. I knew it would only take them a minute or so to get out, so that¡¯s why we had to leave immediately.¡±
Well, that explained it. This was all his fault. As expected. She nodded. ¡°Then you¡¯re going to tell him that it¡¯s all a mistake, right? Maybe offer to pay him for saving us from the bandits?¡±
Kendrik and Grimrod exchanged looks. ¡°Nancy, I¡¯m pretty sure those assassins were really after us. They must have made a mistake, got the wrong room. They wouldn¡¯t have followed us this far otherwise.¡± The bigger man was nodding in agreement.
¡°Then I guess the dagger¡¯s not a bad idea after all,¡± she said triumphantly. The two men looked stunned as they stared at her.
¡°Nancy courageous and smart.¡± Grimrod turned to one of the trees and with a loud snap broke off a considerable branch. He started tearing off the smaller offshoots.
¡°Too bad I didn¡¯t buy two swords,¡± Kendrik mumbled. Would he even be able to use it?
The man was only about fifty feet away now, curved sword in hand, approaching at the same steady pace. A fear gripped Nancy as she realized just how close to death she was. That terror was followed by a thrill of excitement for the danger. What was the worst that could happen? She was, after all, mostly dead already.
Standing there in her dark-hooded boy¡¯s clothes, dagger held tight in front her, she knew that she looked the part of a scrappy street rogue. To her right, Grimrod looked extremely intimidating with his makeshift club, towering presence, and bulging muscles. To her left stood Kendrik, weaponized grin and aura of utter confidence solidly in place. Even if mis-placed. The trio didn¡¯t look it, but they were most definitely doomed.
At fifteen feet the black-clad assassin stopped. The only sound was the rain, pouring around them. He stood there, staring at them. They stood, staring back. Nancy was going crazy. Was he going to attack or not? Would the man just make up his mind, already? Then he raised his sword. Then Kendrik spoke.
¡°Well, friend, seems you finally caught up to us.¡± No response. ¡°Since you¡¯re obviously skilled enough to dispatch us without consequence,¡± his tone was one of mocking, as if he didn¡¯t actually believe the words, ¡°mind at least telling us who wants three members of The Society dead so badly?¡± No response. It wasn¡¯t a bad strategy, though. As much as she couldn¡¯t stand him, she had to admit, Kendrik was a quick thinker. Member¡¯s of The Society had a reputation as adventurers, heroes, monster hunters, and survivors. Of course, they had less appealing reputations as well, but those would only help them in this particular instance.
¡°Let me smash him.¡± Grim¡¯s dull tone made it sound like it would be a boring chore.
¡°Not yet, big guy. We want some answers first.¡± The man tensed, his sword wavering. Was the ruse working? She wished she could see his face, but the black outfit covered it. The four of them stood there in the rain. What was this guys problem? Either talk or fight, just get on with it!
The movement was so slow, and the arm so well camouflaged, that she almost didn¡¯t see it. The priestess silently said a prayer to the goddess. ¡°Oh, goddess of goodness and light, please, help me to defeat this terrible, mean, man.¡± Then, with a surprisingly swift motion, the weresloth¡¯s claws swiped at the assassin¡¯s arm. Nancy dashed forward, dagger at the ready.
Grim must have seen it too because at the same moment the claws struck, the branch flew through the air, nearly missing her and crashing into the man¡¯s chest, knocking him back. His blade dropped to the ground where he had been. She went for it but tripped over a rock, flailing forwards. That blasted goddess was supposed to be helping her! The man regained his balance quickly and dove for the sword as she stumbled.
Bracing herself for the fall, she threw her hands forward, dagger spinning away into the grass and mud. She closed her eyes. Her left hand hit something hard. There was a brief gasp, followed by the sickening sound of metal piercing meat and bone. Peeking, with just one eye, she saw the assassin¡¯s hood, not a foot away from her face. His sword point was protruding from the back of it, fresh blood washing quickly away in the rain.
She opened her other eye and looked down. Her hand had landed on the hilt of his sword, now running red with the man¡¯s blood. It had landed on a rock, just above the hilt, and her weight had thrust the blade into the air just as their would-be murderer dove to grab it. Lucky. Perhaps the goddess could learn a lesson from this.
The others approached, Tybol¡¯s head poking out of the grass nearby. She sat up. The blood had gotten all over her hand. Gross. Cringing, she wiped it off in the grass. Wasn¡¯t this just the way things always went? Goddess letting her down, in spite of her prayers, but she managed to make things work out anyway.
Lightning flashed overhead and thunder boomed across the hills. On top of everything, the storm was getting worse. ¡°On your feet, princess.¡± The tone was a much more gentle one this time, as Kendrik held out a hand.
¡°I can manage on my own, thank you.¡± She stood. Or at least she tried to. Her knees buckled and she fell back down. What was wrong? She shivered. She was sweating, why was she cold? The intensity of her fears and excitement suddenly dissipating must have left her weak. Groaning inside, the girl reached up and took Kendrik¡¯s hand. Do not look at him. That horrific grin was undoubtedly at it¡¯s most horrific. If she saw it right now, he¡¯d be lucky to get away with just a slap.
She was clearly avoiding looking at him. Probably embarrassed that she needed his help. Kendrik understood, though. It was a type of shock that came to people after near-death experiences. He had felt it often enough himself.
¡°Nicely done, everyone. Good team effort there. Love it when a plan comes together. Distract the assassin until the weresloth catches up and disarms him. The barbarian knocks him over with a log. The priestess pretends to trip and fall so that she can deliver the killing blow. Perfect.¡± Why was no one else grinning but him?
¡°Funny,¡± Tybol said. Great, only the weresloth was getting his jokes. Nancy shivered again and swayed. Grim looked ready to catch her if she fell.
¡°Hey, Tybol, how would you like a change of perspective?¡± The weresloth raised his arms and Kendrik lifted him. ¡°How about it, Nancy?¡±
¡°What?¡± She looked horrified for a moment before realizing how it might be taken and attempted to turn it into a grin. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s more comfortable with Grim.¡±
¡°Sloth man warm. You carry. I take pack.¡±
¡°Look, I get it, you¡¯re acting tough.¡± She glared at him. ¡°You don¡¯t have to. We all just saw you charge an assassin head on. There¡¯s nothing you need to prove to us. You¡¯re just suffering a little bit of shock. Perfectly normal. A few minutes with a cute, cuddly creature and you¡¯ll be ready for suicidal assaults again, I promise.¡± The young lady actually smiled a bit and nodded. He placed Tybol on her shoulders.
¡°Not sure if I should be offended right now,¡± the weresloth said. Everyone laughed.
Kendrik kicked the assassin over onto his back. ¡°It¡¯s true what they say: Live by the sword, die by a clumsy priestess.¡± No one laughed. Too soon? He reached down to pull the blade from the man¡¯s skull. It resisted at first, but eventually come free with a sickening squelch.
¡°Are you taking that?¡± Nancy asked, more curious than accusatory.
¡°And anything else useful. I¡¯ll give it all back when I¡¯m done with it,¡± he said, flashing his grin. The blade was well made, but not fancy. He unbuckled the scabbard for it as well, then began searching pockets. The others just stood there, watching. ¡°Well? Feel free to help. We¡¯ve got a couple dozen more bodies to search over there,¡± he gestured towards the road with a nod.
¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±
¡°You have something against relieving dead brigands of their belongings, priestess? They were trying to kill us just minutes ago, you¡¯ll remember.¡±
She shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t care about that, but this storm is getting worse. Searching all those bodies could take an hour or more.¡±
¡°Too long. Search assassin man. Leave others.¡± Grimrod really didn¡¯t seem to like the rain. Kendrik looked to Tybol for backup.
¡°They¡¯ll have money and weapons. These assassins were well trained and geared. Might even have something magical.¡± Magic? Kendrik hadn¡¯t even thought of that.
Nancy turned and spoke to the weresloth on her shoulders. ¡°Think about it, though. Every hour of rain means deeper water in the marshlands. That might not affect you much, but we really don¡¯t have time for this.¡±
Deciding to put Tyboloth¡¯s theory to the test, Kendrik removed the assassin¡¯s blood-spattered hood. A gold chain gleamed wetly in the dull light. ¡°Ah, see!¡± He took the medallion from the corpse. It was still warm. ¡°This could be magical. The others might have more. If nothing else, it might help us find out who¡¯s after us.¡±
¡°How?¡±
He shrugged. ¡°Maybe Laetimus will recognize the symbol?¡±
She rolled her eyes. ¡°Grim, would you please help me out here?¡±
Grunting, the big man reached into his satchel. Once again he pulled out the thick platinum coin. ¡°Heads, stay. Tails, leave.¡± Kendrik didn¡¯t like that these decisions were being left to chance, but said nothing as the coin spun into the air.
AUTHORS NOTE [Reader Poll 2]
While the oppressive rain and thunder threatened them on in haste, the gleam of coin and magical treasure begged them to stay a little longer. Once again our illustrious "heroes" left the fate of their future fortunes to the toss of a coin. A scene made even more morbid by the fact that it was also deciding the dignity of the dead. Would you wonderful watchers have left such serious stakes to the random platinum-plated patterns of chance? Can you guess which path the so-called fates set them on?Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.