Part 1 - The beginning
“All good adventures start in the pub” said Randall, sitting at a crude wooden table in the dingy and grimy (and slightly dangerous) Smugglers Arms. The Smugglers Arms had started out as a smugglers pub, accessible via a secret entrance in the basement of an old a tea shop. As such, the pub was dark, built from rough wood, brick and exposed dirt walls. Over hundreds of years, patrons had carved their aliases, extra shelves, hidey holes and escape tunnels in to the soft rock walls from which it had been carved out. Tens of years ago, after the University of Magical Sciences had been built nearby, the clientele slowly changed, from smugglers getting drunk, doing deals, and getting into fights, to students and smugglers, getting drunk, doing deals and getting into fights. Currently, shadowy figures sat in darkened corners, nursing beers or plotting schemes. A shadowy figure a few tables over slipped from his chair to the floor, though it was hard to tell whether the cause was from drunkness, or being stabbed. His companions hurriedly propped him back up on his chair. It was pretty typical for a student/smuggler pub in Pirn on a Wednesday. Randall sipped his beer and smiled at each of his three friends in turn, Guilaan; tall, dark haired and pale, Tobias; stocky and blonde, and Yurgen ;red of hair and nose (especially when drunk).
Randall cleared his throat, and placed his hands flat on the table. He stared at them, and cleared his throat again. He thought about his father, and how he would not approve of the place he was in, the company he was keeping, and the adventure he planned to take his friends on. He smiled a smile.
“The reason I have called you all here this afternoon, aside from the fine ale and excellt company, is to propose a business venture: between the end of our studies and taking our Placement tests, we form a company of journeymen, and take on some quests. Potentially we can make some good money, and gain some useful experience before we sadly separate to make our own way in the world.” he said. "Kind of... a last hurrah, to celebrate our friendships."
His friends slouched in their chairs, and nodded sagely while sipping their tankards of ale.
“Another round of the same for my friends, please Tameria” said Guiilaan, gesturing to the barmaid as she passed the table. Whisking her hand towel onto her shoulder, she nodded and headed toward the rough hewn wooden bar to pour four more tankards of ale.
“So, how should we go about this questing business then?” said Yurgen quietly, leaning forward over the table. Though the pub was mostly empty, it was still rowdy, and interested parties may have been eavesdropping on their conversation. Questing could be a competitive business, and while the group of soon-to-be former students wouldn’t be a true threat to the professionals, even taking only low paying jobs could still become dangerous for them if they were seen to be too sucessful.
Randall leaned forward onto his elbows and rolled his tankard from hand to hand.
"I think we should just take the easy ones, eh?" He said, making eye contact with each of his friends. "We'll go to the market for cheap supplies, and then off to Rory's Gear House for the quest. They have an open board in there, with no fees. It also means we don't have to join a guild or other organisation." The boys at the table nodded in agreement. "But, it does mean we are on our own. If we get into actual trouble, we have no physical backup, and we have no legal representation if things go awry. We would be free agents."
Tameria walked over with four new tankards of ale and placed them on the table.
"Which brings me to the final member of our group." He gestured expansively. "Tameria here is willing to come with us on any requests for help we have, plus it means we can potentially have backup in short order due to her connections in the -"
"She's Nifkin" said Yurgen in his thick Havertown accent, straightening up and folding his arms over his chest. "I won't go questing with no Nifkin."
"Having her along is the only way we can make this a viable proposition,” replied Randall.
Yurgen leaned his chair back, folding his arms. He jutted his chin at Tameria, counting off his points on his fingers. "We won't be able to use horses, some places won't take us for the night, aaaand we need to be careful with her 'n' magic…" Yurgen looked at Randall pointedly.
"If we want to do this, then she stays, otherwise we might as well give up and go home now." said Randall.
"I'm all for her coming" said Guilaan. Yurgen glared at him.
"Me too", said Tobais into his tankard of ale, casting shy glances at the barmaid.
Tameria crossed her arms and looked squarely at Yurgen, frowning. He sighed, and then raised his palms in acquiescence.
"Fine, I have nowt against Nifkin as such," he said, causing Guilaan to snort into his beer. "I'm just thinking about how longer it will take to get to places in wagon, not horseback, and we will need to make she doesn't have access to magic, spell books, magical relics or magical objects." He said objects as two words, ob-jects.
Tobias smiled. Yurgen had been working as a clerk in the town hall while studying, and probably picked up a legal thing or two.
"Duly noted. Any other objections?" He looked at Guillaan and Tobias, who silently shook their heads. "Right!" He enthused, clapping his hands together, the noise startling a couple of drinkers who had been drooping at a nearby table. "Let's meet outside Rory's Gear Shop in a sevenday. I expect you to have all of the supplies you need to go on a journey, including food, rope, bags, and other items suitable for questing. " He waved his hand vaguely. "I'll see if I can borrow my father's wagon for the summer so we don't have to walk everywhere. It's unlikely to happen,
part 2: Troll hunting
One sunny afternoon a week later, Randall, Tobias, Guillaan and Yurgen walked into Rory's Gear House, a general supply shop for adventurers, travellers and anyone else planning on leaving the big city behind and spending some time in the wilderness. It was packed with everything anyone would need for any type of journey. The shop was jam-packed with all kinds of items a traveller or adventurer might need, from magical weatherproof hats, coats and tents, to barrels of dried food, magical ingredients, spell books, tents, sleeping rolls and even cooking gear and utensils to take on long journeys. Randall squeezed his way carefully through the overstuffed aisles until he found the noticeboard, his boots ringing gently on the stone floor. While Randall studied the sole piece of parchment on the noticeboard, the other three boys looked around the shop in wonder and curiosity, not sure where to begin.
"Well, good morning boys, or is it actually…” the shopkeeper peered dramatically out through the dusty windows into the street, ”the afternoon? I'm sure it's a little early for you lot, the The Fat Ladies Arms won’t be open for another 30 minutes." He heartily at his weak joke. His voice was rough, like he’d been up all night yelling at alley cats or wild dogs. "Aren't you supposed to be studying for your Placement Tests? Won't you be sitting them in the next few months?" He stood behind the high wooden counter, making a show of dusting some horn mugs which didn’t need dusting, clearly keeping an eye on the boys to make sure they weren't shoplifting.
"A bit of practical study never hurt anyone." Guillan said to the shop keeper, with an annoyed grimace. The shopkeeper's tone was prying and intrusive, beyond normal conversation.
Guilaan looked for the other two. Yurgen was making his way down an aisle of stinky fish in barrels. Tobias lifted what looked like a dead racoon from a pile near the counter, sniffed it, confirmed it was indeed a dead racoon, and gingerly put it back on the pile.
“Camping gear is down the back.” Said the shopkeeper dismissively.
Guilaan squeezed his way past a precarious stack of spades and pickaxes, to where Randall still squinted at the notice pinned on the notice board. It was nearly illegible, and the light was bad. "That does really depend on what you mean by 'practical study'" said Randall. "The only thing on this board is from some farmers having trouble with a rock troll. I think. The writing is atrocious. The reward seems decent enough though. And it's only a few days from here."
"Might give you some chance to practice your Trollish chat-up lines, eh, Guilaan?" Yurgen grinned at Guilaan, who had followed him through the gap, and was currently struggling to right several spades he had just dislodged.
"And you can practise, um, whatever language sheep talk in." said Guilaan. Yurgen poked his tongue out. "Oooh yeah, sexy sheep."
While the other boys laughed, Tobias looked sadly out the dirty main window, where Tameria stood, trying to look inconspicuous. Her dark hair, tanned skin, red eyes and pointed ears marked her out as Nifkin, so legally she wasn't allowed around magic, magic users or in shops selling magical goods. However, that didn't stop her keeping company with these 'boys from the local wizarding school' on the sly.
"Them racoons are excellent *troll* bait," said the shopkeeper, still polishing the mugs, as Guillaan walked up with a book. "Oooh, Joyce's 'Journeys through the Awarua's'. Good read that. Got some good spells in here. Just make sure you don't let any of them Nifkin read it, eh? They's a bad lot them." He wrapped the book in a spare piece of canvas and slid it back over the rough wooden counter. "Thirty shekels."
"What? Blimmin' books." muttered Guilaan as he handed over the money.
Randal tore the notice from the board. The group of boys made for the door, Randall giving the shopkeeper a casual nod of thanks for the parchment. "Five shekels for the notice, if you please." the shopkeeper called out gruffly.
"Ya what now?" cried Tobias indignantly. "Taking this quest should be free!"
"The gentlemen farmers who put up the notice never did pay for that parchment," claimed the shopkeeper airily, polishing. "If'n you want to take it, you'll need to pay for it."
Guilann stomped back to the counter, and slammed a five sheckel coin on the counter. "Keep the bloody change," he rumbled, as he stalked out.
Tameria met them around the corner from the shop, giving a happy sigh as Guillan grumpily gave her the canvas wrapped package from the shop. She pulled of part of the wrapping excitedly, and peeked at the covers. “Joyce's 'Journeys through the Awarua's.” Guilaan pulled another book from under his tunic. “Ooh, and ‘Nobby’s Book of Demons and How to Charm Them’! Nice!”
"Don't open it here!" exclaimed Yurgen, snatching the books from her hands. He rewrapped the bundle, and forced it back into Guilaan's hands. "It's really no a grand idea for ye even to carrying it! Do ye want us to get arrested!" He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "At least wait 'til we are out of town! Bloody crazy Nifkin! Ye'll get us all arrested!"
"Calm down, Yurgen! And be quiet. Tameria, please look at the books later. Nothing to see here, citizens!" he said loudly to a pair of middle-aged human women who stolidly ignored him as they walked past. He waved the five sheckle parchment at Yurgen to shut him up. "So, the quest we so rudely paid for is a village with a troll problem. Called, uh, Clovis. It's near the foot of the Clovis Mountains. It’s about half a day by horse, or, uh ,3 days on foot" he looked quickly at Tameria and looked away again.
"Yeh couldn't get your da’s wagon then?" grumped Yurgen. "If we didn't have her" - he gestured rudely at Tameria - " we could all be ridin'!"
"It's not her fault!" Guilaan protested. "The war may have been over for a hundred years, but there are still pockets of prejudice around."
"Don't I know it," said Tobias. Yurgen glared at him. Yurgen's father was a member of the Freedom Movement, a group determined to make life hard for the Nifkin.
"Look, just break it up you lot, let's get going." Randal muttered angrily, shouldering his pack. "Clovis is this way. Maybe once we are seasoned and famous adventurers of influence, we can change the policies of this realm, but until then, we follow the rules. Let’s well-make our start."
"By the way", said Tobais to Yurgen, pulling a cloak out of his bag, "You might want wear this, instead of your school cloak. That way, random prying shop owners won't know what city or school you are from. It might keep you safe, and her a bit safer too." Tobias gestured at Tameria. Yurgen threw the new cloak over his shoulders, scowled and stuffed his school cloak in his bag.
As they made their way down the road to the city gates, a group of three old Nifkin women, hunched from years of hard labour, and wearing traditional Nifkin garb, hissed and called loudly in the group's direction. Tameria looked away unhappliy.
"What did they say?" Tobias asked Tameria.
"Oh, nothing" she said.
"They said she should stay away from us, she brings dishonour to her people, and draws danger to herself." whispered Guilaan. Tameria's eyes widened.
"I have a talent for languages, studied Nifk at school. Along with some other languages I thought might be handy," he said darkly.
Part 3 The Clay Golem, or, I can always move it later
On the third day of their trek to Clovis, the sky turned suddenly grey and rain turned the once beautiful day miserable. The road quickly turned to a muddy bog. They had to either walk along the side of the road, where the grass was long and wet, or walkin the muddy road, risking losing a boot or being knocked over by a rider who didn’t see them in the dense rain. Eventually, they found a rocky overhang near the road, and set up a camp there, with a smoky fire of wet wood. They pulled off sodden boots and cloaks, and hung them up in the hopes the vague warmth of the fire would dry them out. After a while, Yurgen and Randall slunk out to go hunting, returning a while later with a couple of wet rabbits.
Eventually the rain stopped, and a few hours later, after checking the sky for rainclouds, the group packed up and made their way down the road again.
Soon they heard what sounded like a child in distress. As they rounded a corner, Yurgen, in the lead, stopped on the side of the road, and his hand shot up in a warning gesture.
They saw what appeared to be a child, sitting on a log, crying loudly on the other side of the road. In the middle of the road there appeared to be a large, rectangular package, wrapped in waterproofed canvas, partially submerged in an oddly shaped mud pile.
“What the heck is this about?” Yurgen said quietly, gesturing at the scene before them.
“It seems to be a young boy, crying.” Tameria hotly retorted.
“It might be trap.I think we should go round, or at least scout it.” Yurgen said, ignoring her anger.
“Maybe he is lost in the woods? I think we should at least find out what is going on here.” said Randall.
“Ok, you two can go on with your ‘finding out’, we have a look in the woods and see whats what.”
“Ok, sure.” Tameria took an appraising look at the wood, and then pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, watching the sides of the road for bandits. Glancing at Yurgen, Tameria and Randall walked cautiously down the road to the boy, while the others slithered into the trees on either side of the road to check for an ambush. Tobias clenched his hands into glowing fists, while Yurgen and Guilaan stalked through the forest with swords drawn. After spending a few minutes determining there was no further threat, they made their way to the boy, and tried to understand what was going on.
"I only bought it two weeks ago, and it's ruined!" The boy repeated, and nearly burst into tears again.
"Your package, whatever it is, looks fine, if a little muddy?" said Tameria, frustrated and puzzled. "It's all wrapped up, I'm sure we can pull it out of the mud for you." At that the boy did burst into tears again.
"But it's all melted, it's melted and been ruined by the rain. That bastard did it on purpose."
"What? Guillan, Yurgen, see if you can get that whatever it is out of that mud, eh?" Randall made a shooing gesture toward the package. In reply Guillan gestured at the muddy road, and poked out his tongue. Yurgen was already grumbling his way towards the large package, through the sucking mud.
The boy looked up at Tameria, and said “It’s a fancy bookcase for Mrs Withers. Don’t let them drop it, Miss, I’ll be in all kinds of trouble, what with my clay man melted in the rain.” He squinted at her and let out an involuntary gasp. She quickly straightened up, clasping her hood close to her head, and began berating the muddy young men wrestling with the slippery bookcase.
“What do you mean, your clay man melted in the rain?” said Randall to the boy.
“My clay man, the one carrying the book case” the boy gestured out onto the road, at the muddly pile slowly releasing its grip. Guillan had slipped over in the mud and was laughing, trying to throw mud at an increasingly frustrated Yurgen.
“Oh, you mean a golem?” said Randall. “I haven’t seen one of those for a long time.”
Finally the bookcase was freed from the muck, and the boys were able to drag it to the side of the road.
“We found this while getting the book case out,” said Yurgen, brandishing a mud covered piece of cloth, about the size of a playing card. “It’s got some magic residue on it, I’m not sure what the writing is for though? Maybe some kind of magical attack?” He looked dubiously at the boy ”However, it looks like the ink ran in the rain.”
“Can I have a look at it?" said Randall "Ah, the ink has washed out of it, but I recognise some of it. It's a spell for animating the golem. It's been a while, but I recognise the writing style as well." He looked significantly at Tobais, who crossed his arms and frowned. "Indeed."
Soon enough, the boys were taking turns carrying the book case next to the road, alternatively carrying it, or sliding over the grass and mud, careful not to damage Mrs Wither’s precious bookcase as they did so. After about half an hour, they could hear a low clanking, which eventually turned into a farmer on a ox-pulled wagon.
“Why hello there young Feon, I see you have found some help in these tough times.”
“Father!” Feon ran through the muck to the farmer, and gave him an awkward hug from the road.
“My golem melted in the rain. They stopped to help me.” he said sheepishly.
“Ah, my lad, didn’t I tell you it wouldn’t last? Its rainy season, your golem was all but doomed when you took it out this morning.” he said kindly. “Put the bookcase in the back then, you lot, and we’ll take it where it needs to go after we’ve all dried out at the farm. Your sister is asleep, but we'd best be back quicky.”
Upon levering the bookcase into the wagon, the wagon sank significantly, however with a flick of his crop, the farmer managed to get it slowly moving again. The others walked along the side of the road, to an old farm house a few miles away.
In the kitchen, the farmer, who introduced himself as Farmer Domeney, put some soup on the fire and checked on his baby daughter, while the adventurers peeled off their muddy boots and cloaks. They gratefully sat down at the woodhewn table, polished with age and use, and accepted welcome hospitality of the warm fire. Farmer Domeney chatted to them as he filled simple clay bowls with a hearty soup and an end of hard bread.
“Feon,” he said, and the boy blushed and hunkered over his soup, ”he’s a clever lad who has a way with people and a head for business. Going to go far that one. He bought a golem from some new feller called Richard and was using it to make deliveries. I warned you it was unfinished clay, and the weather would get it, didn’t I? It was all you could afford, but, with the money you’ve saved up and the money from delivering the bookcase, I’m sure you can buy a better one, maybe wood this time? And who knows where you’ll be able to go from there.” he patted Feon tenderly on the shoulder. ”Inherited his spirit from his mother, I'm sure. Bless her.” He turned back to the pot and pretended to give it a stir while wiping his eyes.
When Tobias had heard the name Richard he’d made a grumpy noise, and Tameria, hoping to change the subject from the farmers dead wife, rounded on him.
“Who the heck is this Richard guy, and what has he done to you? You’ve been moaning about him all day!”
“What? I haven’t said anything!”
“Exactly.”
“Richard was one of the people we knew at school, he finished last year. He was my roommate at school, studying automatons and magic,” said Guilaan.
Tobias took up the tale. “He was (is?) a woodworker. So, while at school, I asked him to make a travel chest for me, out of pear wood. He said it ‘wandered off’ but I’m pretty sure someone stole it off him, if he had really even made it at all. I had paid him in full up front, and he only gave me half back, and to top it off, accused ME of taking it so I didn’t have to give him the full amount!"
Everyone sat awkwardly around the table, except for an oblivious Feon, who powered through his dinner with gusto.
“I need to get another golem.” Feon said, around a mouthful. “We should see Richard tomorrow.”
“Yes, I think it would be great to see Richard again.” Guilaan said.
“Well I’m not coming” said Tobias, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
“Fine” said Tameria. “I would like to meet him, and make sure Feon stays in one piece.”
The farmer half-turned to them, poking the fire. “Your Nifkin can sleep in the barn." he said quietly. "I’m sorry, she seems nice enough, but I have a young one,” the baby in the other room gurgled, ”and I don’t want to risk it.”
“Uh, what?”
“Nifkin eat babies.” Randall said.
“Oh, right. Of course."
