ADVENTURER MODE: AN EMBELLISHED JOURNAL REGARDING AN UNLIKELY PARTY OF SIX, PART ONE: THE NORTH

 i'm never going to finish this, but publishing it for the memories

DWARF FORTRESS: ADVENTURER MODE; AN EMBELLISHED JOURNAL REGARDING AN UNLIKELY PARTY OF SIX.

PART ONE: THE NORTH

(INTRODUCTION)

CHAPTER ONE, WHERE THE GROUP MEETS IN A TOWN IN THE PROCESS OF AN INSURRECTION, AND FINDS CHAOS ALL AROUND THEM.

 

CHAPTER TWO, WHERE HARUKA EXPERIENCES CULTURE SHOCK AND THEIR JOURNEY BEGINS.

Haruka was still mulling over the argument she got into.

She had, after all, always been kind and polite, and to find somebody else taking delight in causing disharmony and quarrels baffled her.

Gust gruffly stated that it was inevitable, his massive iron sword slung over his shoulder.

People would always be too different from one another for peace to ever truly be an option, something he learned long ago.

Bareng spotted a discarded bronze maul –no doubt dropped in the melee during the recent insurrection– and picks it up, testing the heft of the large war-hammer by giving it a couple tentative swings.

It was heavy, and he'd always relied on his more than adequate wrestling skills to see him through any encounter, but it might still come in handy as a persuasive tool after a bout of strangulation.

Still, there was something in his nature that exhilarated him whenever he had someone in an arm bar, the crunch of the shoulder joint popping out of place while his victim struggled in vain always bringing forth a rush of pleasure.

One is not, after all, born a demon without some innate desire for cruelty.

The corpse next to the maul, no doubt the previous owner, was decked head-to-toe in iron mail. It was far too large for him, he was, himself, roughly dwarf-sized, but their swordsman –what was his name again– might find some use out of it.

He pulled the armor off the corpse, the front grill of the bronze helm completely caved in by what, ironically, looked to be the very same maul he was holding, and gestured for the swordsman to come closer, telling him he had something the former blacksmith might like.
The human accepted the gift, as stoic as ever. Bareng did make sure to keep the coin pouches for himself, though. The tavern was barely a stone's throw away, and he was eager to get something to moisten his lips after his journey.

The entrance to the inner forth was littered with more corpses, some elven, some dwarven. Most of the armor was dented and chipped beyond use, but Haruka did find an use for the quivers and the arrows they contained.

She, unlike the other elf, had lived among her own kind all her life, and still used her gracefully shaped wooden bow, albeit in an amateurish fashion. She'd always been less a fighter and more a poet, her natural talents coming in handy more than once when accosted by the occasional highwayman.

Another shock came when she examined the tips of the arrows. The elves of the south had always lived in relative peace, only fashioning their weapons and armor out of wood, only to be used in self-defense.

Their recent conflicts with The Fiery Confederacy and The Castle of Forever, and subsequent streak of losses, had shown just how little a wooden arrow could do when aimed at a half-inch slit in a furious charging dwarf's helmet.

These arrows were tipped with steel. Finely made, capable of inflicting the cruelest of wounds, but no doubt useful.

With a sigh of distaste, she took the arrows and placed them into the hemp quiver slung across her torso.

The smell of blood and entrails still laid thick in the air, and she could almost swear she could hear the last few pockets of resistance being savagely crushed by the new rulers of this city.

Rooting around, she found an iron bow as well.

Curious.

It was heavy, and did require perhaps too much strength to draw, but would also probably prove to be useful, if the surroundings were as chaotic as the town.

Ira, the other elf in their party, had moved north from their forest retreats after the settlement was captured, and being an adequate hunter, soon found herself going native, forsaking the customary ornate bow for a crude bronze machine, firing short bolts and piercing armor with ease. She didn't talk much, and didn't look like she was from the peninsula itself, either.

Everybody Haruka grew up with looked largely the same, with pale skin, golden hair, their eyes some shade of green, with their long ears pointing upward. Ira was different. While her hair was the same goldenrod yellow, her ears were more splayed out, pointing downwards instead, her eyes a deep aquamarine.

]

She hazarded a glance over at Gust's hulking figure and pondered his dark green eyes for a moment. Most humans she'd seen around here had uniformly brown eyes and hair, but Gust almost looked as if he'd have some elven blood in him.

]

Almost 

He was incredibly tall and well-built, and from what little she could extract from him during their journey to Walkstuck, used to be a blacksmith. That much was apparent, his skin was like tanned leather, with old faded burns covering his bulging forearms.

]

Rain began to fall, turning the former battlefield into a morass of mud and blood and scattered teeth. 

 

]

Olansasal, "The Patient One", a goblin outcast, curiously eyed the corpses scattered around the courtyard.

He'd already found a few trinkets; an earring here, an amulet there, and with a barely noticeable flick of the wrist, the goblin cut the pouch-strings of another dead palace guard with his boning knife, chuckling quietly at the meager contents. Free money was free money, no matter how much of it you got.

He'd seen some armor in his size on another corpse, but decided to forgo it.

After weaving his way through a hail of crossbow bolts while wearing nothing but a loincloth and coming out unscathed, he realized armor was only useful if it didn't slow you down.

The party stepped inside the throne room proper, and were greeted with more signs of battle.

Several corpses, bolts lodged in the walls, smashed furniture, the works.

Haruka gingerly stepped over the carnage and struck up a conversation with the "Abbot", the newly-elected leader.

]

He was clearly a religious figure, a busy-looking one at that, but managed to spare the time to introduce himself as Pak Raconkajeth, an abbot of "The Large Denomination", a sect founded around the worship of the human god Rulac, the god of war and death.

Fitting.

]

Apart from that, everything seemed to go on fairly normally. The corpses hadn't been cleared out yet, and no official coronation had taken place, but for all intents and purposes, Walkstuck was now independent.

]

The discussion went sour quite quickly, as the abbot seemed to have a lot of things to keep himself busy with, and so the group decided to travel east, to the hamlet of Eneopra, "Shimmercolumn".

]

With that, Haruka turned on her heel, goodbyes clearly unwanted, and left through the large oaken doors, her alligator Pila by her side.

]

Outside the castle, apart from a few corpses laying about, everything was as normal. Merchants, butchers and farmers from nearby towns and hamlets, all peddling their wares, shouting out deals, each trying to undercut the others.

]

A sparse-haired dwarf farmer named Aban, middle-aged at most, his skin already showing wear and tear from constant toil, waved her over and offered her a few juicy rhubarbs for the oaken arrows in her quiver, which she parted with reluctantly.

There were sadly no peaches around, and she'd already eaten most of hers on her journey north, deciding to save those for either a rainy day or and emergency.

She still couldn't quite stomach the thought of eating meat, despite seeing Ira biting into freshly-shot mountain goat on their journey north.

]

The road out of the town was largely flatland, with seemingly endless farmland stretching as far as the eye could see, but only a few hours southeast the party found a small keep, this one seemingly untouched by the insurrection. Whether they went willingly or just decided to bide their time was for somebody else to find out.

]

Judging by the insignia on the guards' armor, they were still loyal to the Triangular Confederation, and a chubby young human with a sparse attempt at a beard hanging off his chin and a sword strapped to his belt rushed over after a moment's hesitation, before asking if he could pet the "big green lizard".

]

Pila didn't seem to mind the careful scratching, instead opening her mouth in a wide yawn, showing off rows of vicious teeth.

Overall, there didn't seem to be much order in this place either, the skeleton crew of soldiers seemed anxious, no doubt fearing the insurrection would spread to neighboring villages, but a few calming words from Haruka seemed to reassure them they were merely travelers, not looking to cause any trouble.

]

A goblin recruit, seemingly hastily conscripted from the few slaves milling about, sidled up to her and awkwardly complimented her shirt, which she accepted graciously after a moment's hesitation.

]

She managed to lead the conversation onto other matters, and heard speak of a lost tome somewhere, held by a dwarf named Etur Oboktekkud, but that he had no idea where the dwarf himself was.

]

She dropped the conversation after a courteous goodbye, and turned to the apparent lord-and-temporary commander of the keep, a human with flattened ears and well-combed brown hair, wearing royal regalia and a quite haggard expression.

]

After introductions and small-talk, Haruka managed to steer the discussion toward any brewing trouble they might take care of.

The lord sighed and said they clearly already knew about the insurrection just next door, but that it was not a matter he'd entrust to some hired blades.

The Confederacy would deal with it in the manner they saw best, and he was simply here to hold the fort, as it were.

Still, there was one "service" their party could offer.

A group of bandits had settled not far away, a half day's travel to the east, and had been intercepting supply wagons and merchants, apparently making off with quite a bit of loot in the meantime.

If they were to be... "disposed of", they would be allowed to keep half of what they found.

With times being as they were, and trouble afoot everywhere, he reasoned, giving the bandits due process and a jail sentence would cost far more than it was worth.

CHAPTER THREE, WHERE THE GROUP COMES FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH FOR THE FIRST TIME.

They'd set out just before noon, and now the sun was most definitely beginning to set.

It was the 12th of Sandstone, mid-autumn, and the air was quite cool.

Haruka shivered.

Ira seemed to be quite comfortable, sitting underneath a tree wrapped in her leather cloak, masticating dried meat between gulps of water, and Haruka found herself cursing her choice of attire.

A skirt, a shirt and a cape, paired with cloth sandals and soft kenaf fabric gloves was more than enough in the southern forests, just east of the Bight, but this far north they were definitely not enough. 

 

It didn't help that the rain had been near-constant as well. Dejected, she sat underneath a large oak and slowly chewed on a peach.

It was a bit over-ripe, and she'd probably have to have them preserved somehow if she wanted them to last.

After the group had eaten and rested, they continued on their way, silently, with Ira taking point.

The girl was quite a tracker, Haruka admitted begrudgingly, the elven markswoman moving almost soundlessly around the bushes and plants strewn about the forest floor.

Suddenly, Ira stopped and dropped to a high knee, gesturing south, crossbow drawn.

"Smell that? Goblins."

Olansasal looked offended, and opened his mouth, but was quickly shushed.

"I wasn't talking about you. Might be the people we're looking for." Ira whispered. "There's tracks leading south. Do you think they could have gone off to ambush another caravan?"

The goblin shrugged. "I would 'ave, if that's what you's asking. Means there's barely anyone at the camp now. We could dispose of them, set a trap for the ones that come back, yes?"

 

]

Ira nodded, and the rest of the group seemed to be in agreement as well.

Haruka decided to reserve her opinion for a later date.

They'd found the camp.

A tired-looking man holding a bronze scimitar stood in the rain, half-shrouded by vegetation, looking absolutely pissed. He was soaked to the bone and his breaths came out foggy, occasionally stamping his feet and stretching his muscles to get some warmth back into them.It seemed like they didn't have the manpower to spare to have anyone looking east, their direction of arrival, and the party definitely had the upper hand.

]

With a clack barely audible over the spattering of rain and the howling wind, Ira let a crossbow bolt fly, the bolt lodging firmly in the bandit's right leg.

It seemed to be more than just a flesh wound, as the bandit howled in pain and crumpled to the ground, the torn tendon in his right leg unable to support his own weight.

]

With a bloodthirsty snarl, Olan's war dogs sprang forward, bearing down on the fallen bandit, a look of absolute terror on his face. 

]

One of them tore into his left hand and ripped off his glove, but despite that he still managed to knock away Haruka's arrow with his scimitar, just to see Gust's hulking figure sprinting at him, chainmail clinking.

"No more! I yield! I yiel-"

His scream was cut short by a downward chop to the neck which sent his head flying off in an arc, a cascade of blood spurting out of the severed stump. Ignoring Haruka's terrified expression, Gust quietly wiped his sword on the discarded glove and dropped to a crouch again.

And just like that, the forest went back to normal. A cursory sweep of the area revealed some inexpertly stashed loot, but no other bandits.

Twilight was nigh, and visibility was getting worse by the minute. The group decided to make camp and to keep watch for any stragglers, and Gust quickly grabbed any and all coins he could find. It seemed the bandits had made off with fairly little else than money, mostly clothes, instruments and practice weapons, no doubt headed for the former garrison in Walkstuck.

]

At the very least, the rain had cleared up, and the group dried themselves off as best they could, not wanting to start a campfire for fear of the attention that would bring.

]

Gust woke up to rain, and a rumble in his stomach. His waterskin was full, something he made sure to correct, but food was another issue. The sun had most definitely risen and none of them had had their throats slit in their sleep, which meant that the bandits had either failed in their assault on the now dountlessly guarded wagons, or had stumbled upon them, decided they were too much to handle, and scattered into the surrounding forests.

 

A nearby turtle solved the food problem. The dogs and the dwarf took care of it rather quickly, albeit brutally, and after a quick roast over a campfire underneath a walnut tree, the group finally had a meal.

The march back to the keep was uneventful, quite silent, apart from the occasional joke from Lór and Olansas.

]

The deal went as promised. Upon their return to the keep, they left roughly half the money with the lord, over 1500 copper pieces in total, and asked for further instruction.

CHAPTER FOUR, WHERE OLANSAS SHOWS HIS CAPACITY FOR CRUELTY, AND HARUKA LAMENTS THE DEATH OF THE BANDIT.

And that's when they realized Haruka wasn't with them.

The lord said they'd had trouble with more bandits, one group further east, and another a full day's march to the south. Gust haphazardly muttered something about doing something about it as he was walking out through the door; nobody really talked the way Haruka did, and despite her proving absolutely useless in the one fight they'd been in, she did bring some life to the party.

They decided to head east first and check the old camp they'd ransacked. With any luck and a bit of haste, they'd be there before noon. The clouds overhead looked bad, though, and as much as everyone wanted to stay and warm themselves by the hearth, they still had an elf to find.

They arrived In Taupecaught much later than expected. Gust had somehow gotten them lost, and an argument between Olan and Lór the dwarf had almost turned ugly.

What he lacked in brute strength the goblin certainly made up for in insults, and even after the dwarf insisted they settle their dispute like proper dwarves, Olan just smirked and toyed around with the leather leashes in his left hand, each one attached to a slavering hunting dog, replying that he much preferred settling it like animals, and so it went on and on, until Ira shushed them. There was a shape in the distance, roughly dwarf-sized, but the silhouette was wrong.

Creeping closer, it turned out that the creature was a kobold, a large one at that - tall, broad and built like a pit bull, quietly running a whetstone along the edge of a gleaming silver shortsword, occasionally casting a furtive glance here and there.

Moving surprisingly quietly for his size, Gust grabbed the sword by the crossguard with his right hand and pushed against the kobold's shoulder with his left, sending the female kobold flying onto the muddy forest floor, the sword now firmly in the human's grasp. The rest on the party moved in, the dogs were still waiting, casting expectant looks at Olan, almost begging to rip the creature to shreds.

The kobold tried to throw a right hook at Gust, which he weaved under, and Olan let one of his dogs fly, the slavering beast latching firmly onto the kobold's lower arm.

In response, Gust grabbed her by the throat, the kobold struggling in vain. Another dog was let loose with a low chuckle, this one latching onto the kobold's gut and pulling.

In the chaos and tumult, Gust managed to demand the kobold yield before they beat her to death; her torso was torn open and oozing blood from numerous bite marks, as was her right leg. Her right hand was barely recognizable as one now, and the kobold looked sick. Guts could feel her retching and her throat spasm, but a short squeeze on her windpipe left her unable to vomit.

Sadly, the kobold didn't seem to understand Common tongue, despite Gust's best attempts, and now Olan decided to join the fray, letting the last of his dogs loose. The goblin grinned, a row of sharp teeth and merciless red eyes glimmering in the twilight, and deftly rapped the kobold in the head with his silver war hammer. A spatter of blood coated the trunk of a nearby willow, and Gust felt something go snap as the kobold fell limp, her neck seemingly broken.

"Not just your fight, izzit?" Olan said, sending another blow at the kobold, this one landing square in her stomach. No matter how much he tried, Gust couldn't hold back the torrent of vomit emanating from the kobold, and decided to just let go and back off while Olan went at it.

The dogs were still latched on firmly, the kobold laying limp as the goblin struck and struck again, breaking bone with every strike. Whatever he learned from his captors must have really stuck with him.

Another bash, the same arm again, this time resulting in an open fracture and a spurt of arterial blood, finally left the kobold unconscious. Perhaps for the better, Gust mused.

At least the screaming had stopped.

Maybe it was better Haruka wasn't with them. She would have been scarred for life after seeing this take place. For a moment, the birds were silent, the rain kept spattering, Olan's warhammer rhythmically thunking amidst snarls and growls.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. THUNK.

The kobold's skull, presumably already fractured, finally gave in, collapsing under the weight of the hammer, the bruised, mincemeat-like face completely unrecognizable.

Even Ira, despite her time among the humans having toughened her up quite a bit compared to most elves, seemed horrified. She knew what savagery was, having hunted and ran down many an animal in her time, and knew that "a humane death" was a concept unknown in the animal kingdom.

So was cruelty, however.

Gust took her aside, chewing on a stick taken from a nearby sapling, and carefully laid a calloused, gauntleted hand on her shoulder.

"That was really something." He said quietly, and shuddered a little. "We're gonna have to rein him in a bit before we find Haruka."

She nodded mutely, kicking a rock with the look of a dejected child on her face, staying silent for a moment.

"I've never seen anything like that. Not once. You know, I was hired by a human cowherd to hunt down a grizzly that had been thinning his herd for months. At first, I though it might be several, judging by the frequency of the attacks and the number of animals missing, but then I saw the first corpse."

She chuckled mirthlessly and shook her head. "Only the teats were eaten. Lots of fat on those, you know? Turns out, this grizzly was a real mean bastard. She'd eat those while the cows were still alive, and then just let them bleed to death right there in the field. Back then I thought that was the worst I'd see, but this... by the Pelt, this is something completely different."

She spat and leaned against a tree, arms crossed, crossbow slung across her back, and shook her head.

"Let's not talk about this for a while, alright?"

]

They turned back and rejoined the rest of the group, grim looks on their faces. Olan was already busy patting down the kobold's mangled corpse, and groaned in frustration when he noticed that she had nothing valuable on her.

"'Oo calls 'emself a bandit and then doesn't even have a single coppa' te show for it? Now that's what I'd call criminal."

"You can have the sword. It's silver. Might fetch a good price."

"Well, if'y insist, then..." The kobold grinned. "Who would I be te turn down a gift like that?"

]

Looking around, they saw no sign of Haruka, and Gust almost had time to fear the worst, until Ira nudged him and pointed northeast.

"See that? Smoke. Could be a campfire. You don't think you could have gotten us lost, do you?"

There was a slight accusatory tone in her voice, and Gust bristled, biting back a bit too quickly.

"How the fuck should I know? All these forests look the same."

"Maybe to a human." She replied. "Let me take point and walk slowly. You sound like a merchant wagon, clinking around the way you do."

He nodded wordlessly, letting the argument die.

Things were already tense enough.

]

Barely half an hour later, they arrived at a little stream, apparently the one they caught the turtle in, and made their way across.

Luckily, they were all capable swimmers, and even the dwarf in his steel mail managed quite well. With the constant rain soaking everyone to the bone, it wasn't like it made much difference in the end.

]

The smell of smoke was definitely present now, even to Gust, who'd gotten so used to it during his time in the forges that he barely registered it anymore. A short walk west later, the party wringing water out of their clothes, they finally saw Haruka, sitting underneath a willow, quietly chewing on a peach.

"There you are. When'd you slip off?" Ira asked.

Haruka flinched, clearly jumpy. "W-well, after... after that man was killed, and we were on our way back, I thought that, well, maybe... He'd deserve a burial or s-something, so..."

She gestured northwest.

"I dug that for him. W-with his sword."

True enough, there was a small mound of earth with a scimitar sticking out of it, handle-first, and Haruka's clothes were most definitely dirtier than usual, soil and mud staining her gloves, skirt and knees.

"I'd... appreciate it if you wouldn't touch that sword. I was... I was going to pile some rocks onto th-the grave, but..." She shook her head, "There weren't enough to be found."

]

"Don' worry." Olan said, with what passed for a reassuring grin among his kind. "'S jes' bronze, anyway. Wouldn't fetch a propa' price at the markets, it wouldn't."

]

Haruka opened her mouth, as if to say something, but just shook her head and turned her attention back to the half-eaten peach in her hand.

Ira went over to take a seat beside Haruka, and Gust pulled Olan aside.

"Listen, the thing that happened with the kobold... You probably shouldn't talk about it with Haruka around."

"Why not?" He smiled. "We made th' roads safer, once again. Big goddamn heroes, ain't we?"

"Just don't. Or if you do, tell her it was quick."

"A'right, a'right. But I wasn't the one that choked her out, was I?"

Gust sighed.

"No. You weren't. But please don't say too much. You see how she reacted to that human. That was quick. This wasn't."

"Fine." The goblin grinned again. "M' lips're sealed. But when are we divvying up the loot?"

"Let's... fuck it, let's head back to Walkstuck. There's an inn there. We'll have a drink, rest a bit, and head south tomorrow after stocking up. You'll get your share when I get a beer."

"Can't wait."

The goblin smiled, perhaps a bit more genuinely this time, and walked off towards his dogs, the previously slavering beasts now looking as eager and playful as any puppy.

"Oh yeh, 'fore I forget. Thanks fer th' sword." He called over his shoulder, and Gust simply nodded.

CHAPTER FIVE, WHERE THE GROUP CELEBRATES THEIR VICTORY WITH A DRINK AND A FISTFIGHT.

 

Night fell shortly after they left the camp, and by the time they were in Walkstuck, it was well past midnight. The tavern keeper was sound asleep, clearly drunk out of his mind, so the group sat down while Ira went to fetch them all drinks. They'd settle the debt in the morning.

Haruka was in a worrying state. She'd always been a bit aloof, albeit not in an unfriendly way, but she hadn't said a word after they left the camp. Whatever reassuring words Ira had said to her didn't seem to have quite taken root yet, it seemed.

"Drink's out. Barrels are chained shut."

"Fuck me. Any other place to get a drink?"

"Rather not, and none that I know of. I thought you were the local."

"I am, I am." Gust sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Just never went anywhere else than the 'Orange. Think it might be due to the insurrection?"

Ira shrugged. "Might be. Entire town's quiet. There's fear in the air."

"You're damn right about that," he muttered. "It's like an... overheated furnace, just on the verge of blowing up."

He sighed again. "I want to get out when dawn comes. In fact, I'd want to get out now, but I'm not walking through the pissing rain without a couple pints of Longland in me, so we'll stay until that bumbling old drunk wakes up, and then pay our tabs and leave. You'll get your loot in the morning, as will everybody else."

"Y'said I'd get my share when we get 'ere." Olan said, with a leer.

"I said you'd get it when i get a pint in me. But if it's that important to you, sure. I just hope you can count in the dark. I sure as hell can't."

"At all?" The goblin grinned. "Mus' be 'ard bein' a blacksmif if y' don't even know how many swords ya got fer sale."

"I can count, fuck's sake. But I can't really tell the fucking difference between a silver Atekupril and a golden one when it's pitch fucking dark, can I?"

"Yeah you can. You feel the weight, don't ya? All the same size, but gol' weighs twice as much, and a coppa weighs just a li'l less than a silva." He gave a wink. "But who cares 'bout coppas, anyway? Tha's pocket change, innit?"

"Alright. Come here and help me count. We'll split it equally."

"Much obliged."

"That is, six ways. I trust that doesn't offend your sensibilities?"

"Why, masta Gust, whaddya take me fer? I'm an 'onest man." The goblin winked.

"When I wanna be, at least. But I swears, no funny business. Y'did mos' the work with that highwayman anyways."

"So tha's..." Olan made some mental notes, "Twenny gol's, eighty silvas, and thirty coppas per man. Give or take. D's that soun' roight?"

"Seems fair enough," Gust said, barely able to hide his amazement at the goblin's abilities. "So, guess we'll just divvy it now."

"Right."

The group gathered round, Haruka now seemingly both more composed and more dry than before, and sat down near the table.

One of the last few drunken stragglers was still trying to play a merry tune on the woge and failing miserably, a monk chuckling at the man's attempts.

"That... hah, that vaguely shounds like an inshtrument, or a herd of catsh in heat!" The monk laughed. "No, no, kheep going, I still can't quite decide which it ish."

Gust gave them the general information, with Olansasas filling in the blanks in his goblin drawl.

Haruka initially rejected the compensation, but after a few reassuring words from Ira, begrudgingly took her share.

]

The divvying done, the group headed upstairs, each to their separate rooms, all deciding to head out as soon as the shops opened to first get supplies, and then to escape this pressure-cooker of a town.

It was bright when Gust woke up and walked downstairs, groggy and thirsty.

The tavern keep, Mirding, greeted him, either still drunk or so used to working through hangovers they barely bothered him anymore.

"Gust! My friend! How goes it?" Mirding said with a smile. "I see you've made use of my fine lodgings. How were they? I switched the hay out just yesterday."

He gave a conspiratorial wink. "Most definitely worth the twenty coppers I've added to each of your tabs, weren't they?"

"As soft as a virgin's thighs." He replied with a smirk. "As for me, I'm out adventuring. Left the shop to the apprentice, I did. She's a sharp young lass, a real deft hand with the hammer and a sense for heat. She'll pick up the slack in no time, she will."

"Oh? Adventuring now, is it? Well, you're still a young one, and there's plenty gold to be made out in the wilds, there is. Been lots of caravans that's been ambushed recently, and then there was the insurrection, and, well..." He shrugged. "Interesting times indeed."

"Damn right about that. Gimme a couple pints of Longland beer, and let me pay off my tab. My companions will do the same."

"Terribly sorry, terribly sorry." The barkeeper said and cringed. "I was supposed to get in a new shipment just last week, but the damn bandits must've made off with it. I had a barrel tucked away, but it started going sour, and then the abbot's men came and seized it as "tribute" or something. All we have is strawberry wine, sadly. This is a very good batch, though. This year's harvest was extraordinary, and this'll definitely put a pep in your-"

"Right, right. Well, I'll have a couple glasses of that, then, and my waterskin full as well. How much is that?"

"For you? Just a tenner will be fine, mister Gust."

"Right then, cheers to that."

"I'll be back in a moment." The barkeep scurried off, and Gust sat down on a creaky oaken chair, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

While the group waited for their drink, Ira told them stories of shadow crones and giant cougars, menacing the southern reaches of the peninsula.

Lór butted in occasionally, jovially, with a joke or two of his own. He'd sternly refused any drinks, especially any wines, and instead bit the cork off a jug of dwarven ale he pulled out of his backpack.

"Hah! Pep in y'r step! This stuff right here," he slammed the bottle on the table, "this'll see ye through any fight ye find yerself in, and still leave time for 'alf a day in the mines!" He finished the bottle, slammed it on the table again, and belched loudly.

 

]

"Speakin' a fights, you wanna go fer a tussle? Jus' a friendly one, mind."

Gust laughed. "Not until I get my drink."

]

The tavern keeper returned, and made a lascivious remark about Ira. If Haruka was shocked, she didn't show it.

She seemed to be in a far better mood than yesterday, chewing on a bit of rhubarb stalk, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"Looks like you have yourself an admirer." Gust grinned over his mug of wine, downing the first mug in one long swig.

Mirding was definitely right, this was a good batch. Sweet, sour and strong. Not as good as the bitterness of Longland brew, but still good enough for the price.

"Wouldn't be the first one." She chuckled. "A lot of humans seem to have a thing for elves, it seems."

She sipped her wine.

"Good stuff. A bit too much of a thing, sometimes, I'd say. Surprised he hasn't made a move on Haruka yet."

This time, the elf definitely blushed.

"Also, if Gust doesn't wanna go, I definitely could go for a friendly match. Just as long as you take off your armor first. I've always wanted to tussle with a dwarf, and you look pretty solid."

"Hah! Bring it on, pointy-ears! I'll show ye what I've learned growing up, eh?"

Both took off their backpacks, weaponry and armor, and retreated to the northernmost wall, where they shook hands.

Lór definitely had the size advantage, Ira was small even for an elf, and so he went for a right hook to the solar plexus, which she deftly stepped back from, sending a jab the dwarf's way which struck him square in the neck.

"Wait, why are they fighting? I thought they were friends?"

Haruka looked confused and exasperated, she still hadn't touched her wine, eyeing the goblet with suspicion.

Gust shrugged and chuckled, craning his neck to get a better look at the action.

"Some people are just like that. Some people want sex, some people want to get drunk and dance, others like to fight. Besides, it's just a friendly match, and if it gets ugly, there's still all of us here ready to break it up."

"I suppose so... but by the Pelt, didn't you see that punch? That's going to leave a bruise, at the very least!"

]

"Where we're going, we won't have to worry about bruises."

Gust laughed, patting Haruka on the shoulder. "Drink your wine and enjoy yourself as long as you can, we'll be setting out soon again. 'S a full day's march south to the next camp so we might as well have fun before that."

"Oh! Well, you see, we don't really drink like that back home, you see..."

"You don't?"

"We don't really need to. We, um, dance, and sing, and..." she sighed. "Forces that Be, this all probably sounds so silly to all of you, but we elves aren't really rough-and-tumble types like all of you, and-"

"Oi." Olansas nudged Haruka. "Twenny silvers on the dwarf. Wanna bet on it? Winner takes all."

"What? Gambling? I don't-"

They were interrupted by a scream of pain and a loud crack. Lór had landed a solid strike on Ira's left lower arm, hard enough to draw blood and bruise the bone, while Ira's kick to his shin failed to connect.

"Oh no! Look, she's bleeding, we have to..."

"On it." Gust said, and ran over to the two fighters, separating them, but seemingly without reason.

Ira had already yielded, and was clutching her left arm, clearly in great pain.

"Fuuuuuuck. You got me good there. A bit too good, methinks. Don't know how well I can use my crossbow with just one hand. Good punch, sir."

"Hah! Told ye so! What about you, Gust? Ready to wrestle?"

"Twenty on the dwarf! Who's taking?" Olan yelled from across the room.

"Me's gonna raise that to fourty on the human, you be up for it?" Bareng said, flashing serrated teeth.

"Well, if you insist." 

 

Gust took off his gear and set it in a pile next to the dwarf's.

"Oi! Mister Gust! Any furniture's goin' on your tab!" The tavern keeper yelled. "And you, elf! Don't bleed on the floor, I just swept that today!"

"On second thought, maybe not."

"Hah! Cavy sow, ye are."

"I'd just prefer we'd all be fighting fit for today. Trust me, we'll find you an opponent."

"Cavy sow."

Gust allowed the remark to pass and put his armor back on, and after a moment's hesitation, the dwarf did the same.

"Still, good punch, weren't it?"

"Definitely. Wouldn't want to be caught by that. Guess there's a reason you were acting captain for a while."

"Damn right! Whipped those recruits into shape in record time, I did! Then I got a bit too drunk and happened tae say something mean tae that wheedling little pup the baroness keeps on a leash, and suddenly I'm stripped of my titles and serving two months for disorderly conduct!"

"Still," the dwarf winked, "if we ever go tae Tradetowers, I can get you the best beer and plump helmet stew you've ever tasted. Me and the chef go way, way back." He said, conspiratorially, belting his chainmail shirt on.

CHAPTER SIX, WHERE THE GROUP MARCHES TOWARDS THE SOUTH.

The group left the tavern shortly after having their drinks, and Gust settled the group's tab with a large gemstone he'd found in the bandit camp. The pouring rain had turned into a slight drizzle, and then stopped completely during their journey south through the ashy badlands. When on the way towards Dreadscholars, they stumbled upon another bandit camp, this one fully manned.

FILL OUT MORE

CHAPTER SEVEN, WHERE THE GROUP FINDS THEMSELVES IN AN UNEXPECTED BATTLE.

 

Ira stopped them again, her trousers marred with dust and ash, and pointed out eight bandits, mostly goblins, with a few humans mixed in. Most of the camp seemed to be asleep, and the two that were awake were facing away from them. This time the clack was audible, and the crossbow bolt flew into the goblin hammerman's left forearm, lodging firmly in the wound. Another bolt flies through the air, this one going wide, but now the rest of the party has almost reached the hammerman, with Gust leading the charge, followed by Olan. Gust aimed a wild strike at the hammer-wielding goblin's right leg, the iron sword cleanly cutting through the clothes and sending the leg flying off in an arc, the goblin collapsing. Olan takes over, bringing his silver hammer to bear against the prone goblin, breaking bones with every strike as his victim feebly tried to protect himself, his cries for mercy going unheeded. Gust focuses on the goblin wrestler beside him next, and tries an upward swing against the right leg again, but this time the force isn't enough to sever the limb, the sword instead sticking to the bone, lodging firmly in the wound. Still, the wound is deep enough to sever a tendon and send a spurt of arterial blood flying out, and the goblin collapses under his own weight. He uses his momentum to pull the sword out, and aims a downward stab at the goblin's left leg, another spurt of blood, and the goblin wrestler passes out. The greenskin is finished by another downward slash, aimed squarely at the neck, an instant decapitation.

Meanwhile, Haruka is slowly creeping away, her back turned to the melee, and takes cover in a nearby bush. There turned out to be far more bandits than expected, with Ira counting another 12 at the very least, some of them still sound asleep. Another hammer-wielding goblin, this one more muscular than the last, sprints toward Gust, but is intercepted by a strike from Olan's warhammer, the strike sending him off balance and flying down the hill, his neck broken by the impact. Meanwhile, a bit to the west, Lór saw his chance, deftly placing a violet-haired goblin crossbowman in a chokehold and squeezing. The goblin tried to fire at the dwarf behind him, but the shot goes wide. After a few seconds of gasping for air, the goblin goes unconscious, and Lór ends him with a single blow to his unarmored head, the mace caving in the skull, lodging itself in the cranium. Haruka finally stands up, and sends a steel-tipped arrow flying through the air, hitting the goblin wrestler in the foot, severing the tendon and making him crumple under his own weight. A split-second later, the clack of a crossbow bolt being let loose echoes in the hills, the bolt striking the same goblin in the right arm, probably aimed at the upper body.

Gust sends a well-aimed stab at the goblin, managing a solid hit to the upper body as something cracks under his heavy iron blade. The goblin, apparently female, manages to get on her knees, begging for her life, her breaths coming in ragged, choked rasps, but Gust aims another strike at the goblin, cutting her head off. A fountain of dark blood coats the ground around them. Gust saw a suitable opponent, apparently the warlord of this little clan, clad in some form of regalia, brandishing a finely-crafted iron crossbow. A couple goblins were standing between them, most notably one wielding a mace and a shield. Gust deftly weaves around them, making a beeline for the human warlord, severing his left arm with a well-placed strike. Another quick slash severs the right arm, and the warlord begs for mercy. “I have slain two of your best already, and you won't be the last!” Gust says, a menacing edge to his voice. “Just make this easy for me.” He didn't, instead bolting away, headed south, the stumps of his arms gushing blood, managing a full twenty feet before falling over and rolling down a hill, either unconscious or dead. Didn't matter, there was no way he'd recover from that.

Further north, Haruka had joined the fray proper, and sent another steel arrow flying into a goblin wrestler with a resounding twang, this one piercing the lower body, sticking in the guts. Ira seemed to either have healed or to be fully capable of operating a crossbow with only one free hand. Two quiet clacks later, one bolt strikes the goblin in the knee, the greenskin struggling to keep his balance, which is quickly lost when the second bolt strikes him in the liver, sending him falling head over heel. Haruka readied another arrow, this one nailing the goblin to the ground. The dogs are quick to join in, tearing into the goblin amidst pained screams and futile struggling. Lór is mere feet behind them, aiming a vicious kick at the bolt stuck in the goblin's liver, followed by two rapid strikes with his mace. He attempts a third one to the head, but misses, losing his balance. The goblin wrestler manages to fight off the dogs, but hasn't noticed the alligator sneaking up behind him, rows of yellowed teeth bared in fury. Pila the alligator clamps her jaw onto the goblin's left leg, shaking the little green humanoid around like a chew toy, severing nerves with every movement. After mere moments of savage beating and biting, Lór finally finishes off the goblin with a well-placed strike to the cranium, the body barely recognizable as anything vaguely humanoid anymore.

Meanwhile, Ikmon-Bareng sees his chance, and points at a goblin wrestler, sheathing his maul. He is quick to move, grabbing the wrestler's upper arm, aiming for a joint break. The goblin isn't too shabby either, contorting herself to gain a hold of his left foot with her free hand, no doubt intending to pop his knee out of place. Her grip is quickly broken, though, and the demon quickly places the goblin in a joint lock, the shoulder collapsing mere moments later. As one, two missiles come flying from the north, one tearing into the spleen and the other sticking in the knee. The goblin's leg buckles. Now holding the goblin in something similar to a full-nelson hold from the front, Bareng feels a grim satisfaction at the resounding crack of the wrestler's other shoulder breaking. The demon goes to ground as well, still, maintaining the hold, the goblin crying out in pain and feebly trying to scratch at him. It's enough to draw blood, and Bareng decides to make this as painful as he can. He switches positions, still maintaining the hold, and sits on the goblin's right thigh, snaking his right foot around the goblin's shin, locking the knee in place. A quick upward jump with his left leg is enough to break the hip, and the goblin finally gives into pain and falls unconscious. Not very fun at all. Bareng stands up, shooing the over-eager Olansas away, and attacks the unconscious wrestler with a flurry of kicks and punches, all aimed squarely towards the head. The last heavy stomp with his left foot is enough to cave the goblin's face in. His next victim spotted, Bareng makes a beeline towards a muscular goblin maceman, his maul still strapped to his back. The spiked bronze morningstar looks like a threat, and also the highest-priority target. A quick elbow lock later, the maceman yields. The demon orders him to drop his weapons, and he quickly complies, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. No such luck.

One is not spawned a demon without an innate thirst for cruelty, and the pop of the goblin's right elbow says as much. So, Bareng grabs the copper bolt firmly lodged in the goblin's spleen, but the goblin has enough time to retaliate, grabbing his shield and bashing him in the chest with it. For a moment, everything goes dark, the wind gets knocked out, and he feels blood oozing out onto his shirt. Enraged, he tears the bolt out of the wound, followed by a spurt of blood, a scream of pain and another attempted strike with the edge of the shield, but something in his heart feels wrong. The rhythm is irregular, painful, and he suddenly realizes the concept of his own mortality. He grabs the goblin by the throat and throws them aside, leaving just enough time for Olansas and Haruka to jump away as the goblin skids along the ground, leaving a trail of dust. He jumps at the prone maceman, but slams into Haruka instead, sending her flying and skidding around the ground, breaking her ribs. Olan and Lór are taking turns beating the goblin, and he has just enough time to stand up before a warhammer strike to the knee breaks the joint and he keels over again, a mace to the head rendering him unconscious.

Seeing his chance, Bareng grabbed the goblin by the throat, fully intending to strangle the bastard, even if he would lose his own life in the process. Before either of those things come to pass, however, the goblin retches and vomits, just before a well-aimed strike from Lór shatters his head. Haruka finally comes to a stop, rolling down a hill, her head smacking against an inconveniently-placed stone, and everything goes dark for a moment. Bareng is retching and choking, crawling away from the battle, covered by Olansas, who directs his attack dogs downhill, towards a fat, dark-skinned human, probably from the Fiery Confederacy, who has turned her attention to the unconscious, wounded elf, cracking her knuckles with a grim look on her face. Ira sends a bolt flying the same way, either good shooting or terrific luck guiding the bolt to her left eye, killing the wrestler instantly. The rest of the battle is little more than cleanup, the ashy wastes strewn with limbs and decapitated bodies, the last few wounded stragglers quickly finished off by mace, bolt and greatsword.

CHAPTER EIGHT: WHERE THE GROUP CUTS THEIR LOSSES, COUNTS THEIR WOUNDED AND MAKES A DECISION.

"So, what do we do now?" Ira asked, pulling a bolt out of a fallen bandit with a wet pop. "I don't like the winds coming from the south. Smells like ash. Too much ash. Might be thralls about." "Thralls?" Gust was busy cleaning the blood off his sword, his boots and gloves completely covered in the stuff.

"Yeah. Ash thralls. Undead things, nasty ones at that. Just breathing in the ash is enough to make you one of them." Pop. "I know the deal was to go to Dreadscholars, but if there's a necromancer about we might as well be dead. I vote we skip that and head back to Walkstuck instead. See if it's any calmer." "A deal's a deal, and I'm a man of my word. We go south." "No." Ira shook her head. "You can go south just as much as you want, but I'm not going. And neither is Haruka, Lór, or any of the others. You can go south, get infected, and wander the wastes for all eternity, but I don't take suicide missions." "I thought we agreed on this." Gust said, an undercurrent of menace in his voice. "Thinking is one thing, knowing is another. Besides, look at Lór. He can barely hold his shield anymore." Gust let his eyes wander towards the bulky dwarf, and saw him cringe while bandaging his right hand with a piece of discarded cloth, his shield dangling from his shoulder. "And," Ira continued, in a hushed tone, "I don't know what happened to that demon fellow, but he's not long for this world. I think he's in really bad shape. Haruka's ribs are broken, too, and the goblin doesn't look particularly good, either." She shook her head. "Frankly, it's a miracle you're as unhurt as you are, dashing off like that. We might be fit to fight, but I don't think anybody else is. I say we cut our losses, cut their purses, and go back for a drink. I need more bolts, anyway. This one's bent." Meanwhile, Gareng was slumped over, lying down on the side of a hill, with Haruka fruitlessly trying to remove the dented, bloodied copper mail covering the demon's torso. "If you'll just... hhh let me take a look, I'll-" Haruka winced in pain, the sensation of her broken ribs scratching against each other sending another stab of agony up her spine. "I'll be able to... hhh ...help." "No touch!" The demon croaked, spitting a ball of phlegm and blood towards a nearby obsidian rock. "Just need... time. Just let rest." "Well, it's the hhh least you could d-do!" Haruka exclaimed, indignant. "If you wouldn't have... hhhh slammed into me like that, I wouldn't be in... hhh in this state to begin with!" "Elf should have dodged!" The demon growled in pain. "Should not have been in the way! If elf would have moved her fat behind, Gareng would have killed maceman, taken revenge!" "My fat what?" Haruka gritted her teeth. "Fine then. If you don't want my help, you won't hhh get it. You can just lay there and feel sorry for yourself until your hhhh heart finally gives in!" "Grraaah!" Gareng growled again, showing off rows of serrated, vicious teeth. "Me heal myself. Give time. Leave!" With that, Haruka stood up, turned around and limped away.

There was no reason to press the argument anymore.

"I hate tae say it, lads..." Lór started, then hurriedly added, "...and lasses." "But I fear I might not be able tae fight." He said in a grim tone. "M'hand feels like it's smashed tae bits. I can swing m'mace well 'nough, but that won't help if anything strikes back, will it?" "Then what do you say, master dwarf? Take what we can, then head back to Walkstuck for a drink or two,? See if we can find a doctor, maybe?" Ira said, with a pathetic attempt at a wink. "The deal was to go to Dreadscholar!" "Shush, human. Go it alone if you want to. I'm not becoming anybody's thrall." "Ach, well, I can hardly say no tae that, can I? Although..." The dwarf played around with his braided beard, "I knows the chief surgeon in Tradetowers. 'S barely a half day's march from Walkstuck, and she's a proper lass. Fixed me and the lads up more times than I can count." "That sounds..." Ira faltered, clearly finding the thought of going to a proper dwarven fortress off-putting, "...that sounds great! Yeah!" "I'm tellin' ye, best plump helmet stew on the Peninsula." He winked, conspiratorially. "Miss Oddom'll fix us right up, even that demon-thing o'er there. If he makes it that far." The last part was added in a whisper. Ira nodded, silently hoping the dwarves living there didn't hold too many grudges against her own kind. "All in favor of Tradetowers, say yes!" "Aye." "Ech, fine, fine." "If the doctor's as good as they... hhh say." "And a yes from me." Ira concluded. "We go to Tradetowers." "What about the demon?" Gust asked, clearly exasperated at this turn of events. "He hasn't voted yet." "He's passed out! Besides, silence is agreement." "I still want his opinion. Wouldn't be fair without it." "Life's not fair, is it?" Ira smirked. "But fine. All in favor of continuing south, leaving the loot here to be taken by some bumbling idiot, only to end up infected with the Ashen Plague and turned into undead thralls, say yes." The silence was deafening.

]

"Fine. But how do we get the demon there? And where is it, even?" "Ooh, trust me, lad, I'd find my way back any day of the week. And I think the goblin's familiar with it as well." Lór said with a smile. "Yes. Two years lock'd inna cage. I'll never forget th' smell." Olan smiled menacingly.

CHAPTER NINE: WHERE THE GROUP MARCHES TOWARDS THE DWARVEN LANDS.

FILL OUT AND COME UP WITH SHIT

remember to bring up lors infected wound