It was a rather cold spring that day. The sudden gushes of wind, accompanied with the uncanny low temperature in the air made the season feel more closely related to autumn if it were not for the lively and vibrant colors, vast fields of green dotted with innumerable, multicolored spots of blooming flowers, all under a clear ocean-blue sky with seldom a puff of pure-white clouds hovering above. The more superstitious of peasant-folk would consider the strange coldness a sign, a sign of misfortune, yet it did not deter them from their daily lives of honest, hard labor. The more work-savvy of men and women were rather grateful for the low temperature, superstitious or not, they were glad not to be sweating in the heat quite as profusely as always. The city folk were less enthused, obviously, some of the more cold-sensitive citizens even going as far as lighting small fires in their cold houses to keep warm while not telling a soul about it since it would make them seem rather strange in the eyes of their neighbors who, ironically, probably did the same.
Adventures, on the other hand, were a hardy folk, despite all their other possible short-comings. Come bright sun, beating heat, chilling cold or torrential rain, these would-be-heroes would not shy away from their ‘missions’, after all the call for adventure was always around, glory was waiting and so were the folk with too much silver in their pockets, a lot of problems and just not enough muscle to solve them. Not all folk looked upon them with pleasant eyes though, many seeing them as little more than glorified sell-swords with deluded flights of fancy, aspiring to become as renowned and glorious as the five heroes which defeated the Great Lord. An aspiration which, truth be told, only few adventurers had, how can one become renowned for defeating a great evil when there is none? No. The majority of adventurers wish to make a name for themselves, indeed, but the glory and riches is merely a bi-product of their original goal : A life of freedom. Freedom to roam the lands and witness its many wonders. Freedom to aid those in need for just causes and great recompense. The sort of freedom that only comes with a life of adventuring!
Or so, the songs go…
Brann Aldebard, The Spellsword
It had been a couple of days since that wandering bard had spun its tales, of the many perks that come with the life of an adventurer and how wealth and glory are there for the taking. He couldn’t help but smile when he thought back on it. He had been wandering the roads for most of his lifetime, the last 6 years being spent as a sell-sword and most recently a self-styled adventurer, as such he was confident that he quite a lot about what such a life would entail. Well, maybe not A LOT but more than a simple bard, certainly. He always found it odd that the songs never mention the other, less pleasant, aspects of adventuring. Such as the cold nights, seemingly never-ending roads, pockets filled more with dirt rather than silver, stomachs devoid of food rather than satiated and most importantly, how many do not choose this life for glory or whatever reason but are rather left with no alternative. Well, at least that song was spot-on about meeting new and interesting personalities during one’s escapades.
The group that he found himself being a part of for this mission could not have been odder. A pious man of the cloth who looked a tad too old for wandering the land, a young lady dressed in finery who seemed like she goes on adventures just to pass the time before returning to her cushy home, a giant of an Orc which Brann is half-sure was raised by Dwarves considering how often he is seen with a bottle in his hand, a knight in a black set of armor that seems more appropriate for the next ‘great evil’ rather than a would-be-hero, a sorceress with the uncanny ability of never smiling to the point where Brann was close to formulating a tickle-ambush plan, an Elven woman with an ego as tall as her and a voice twice as loud, a Satyr woman which seems to be a very far away from the home she was supposed to be in and last but not least, a rather pale and effeminate young lad dressed in black which Brann knew was something off about due to him sensing an aura of dark-magic around the lad, only to be confirmed his suspicion by the boy’s sudden honesty with regard to his nature not long after they departed.
Brann had seen all sorts of people come and go when he was with the Ironwood Company, but even the strangest of sell-swords didn’t come within a mile of the strangeness of this group. One messily year of adventuring did not prepare him for this sort of company, yet he was glad to see that despite the appearances of some, they were decent traveling companions, or at least seem to be up to this point. ‘It’s only been two and a half days..’ he thought to himself as he carefully scampered over a large boulder, considering that they were all mere acquaintances with each-other and perhaps he should not be as friendly with them as he was. Yet, one can hardly fight their own nature, right? ‘Besides, they all seem..’ his thoughts were briefly interrupted when he turned around and stretched his hand to help one of the female companions climb on top of the boulder before finishing them with a soft smile ‘..nice’.
The smile was friendly enough yet the jape about the woman being heavier than she appeared was met with a mean gaze and Brann half-thought he was going to get smacked when he realized he probably should not have said that.
“I.. I meant your gear! I wasn’t implying anything, I swear!” He quickly said trying to, in vain, save the situation but the female companion had already climbed down the boulder, leaving Brann to sigh to himself with a thought of ‘Nice one, asshat. Real gentlemanly of you..’
It was only after he leapt down himself that he took a more considerate gander at his surroundings. This forested area was rocky beyond reason; their group had to watch their step since they first saw the tree-line a few hours ago. The ground was also starting to become steep, transitioning into a slight incline the deeper they went. Tall trees offered a slight shade from the glowing sun yet they were not vast enough to completely cover the sky with their branches and leaves. It had been a few days of travel from the small road-side inn close to the edge of the Human Kingdom and Brann was pretty sure that their employer had lead them beyond the border and further East, heading for the Dwarven Kingdom, a hunch reinforced by the rocky terrain.
Ah, yes; their surreptitious employer. Even in the midst of such a colorful group of adventurers, Timothy stood out with his vibrant clothes. The Elven merchant was dressed in some sort of finery dyed a bright orange, decorated with a deep red trim and golden buttons that glistened in the sunlight. His faded green trousers and rather simplistic leather boots were the only part of his attire that didn’t immediately catch the eye. At first glance, one could easily mistake him for a Human as his face was strangely lacking the delicate features so common among Elves, his curly brown hair was kept short and hidden underneath a green and brown checkered beret with only a pair of long side-burns decorating his visage. The leather pack he carried on his back was by far the largest among the group, seemingly stuffed to bursting with who-knows-what assortment of items, the simple iron buttons and buckles visibly struggling to hold on and prevent the contents from spilling.
Timothy himself was rather vague about the exact purpose of this expedition; then again one would expect that considering his reputation. Brann heard of him and despite meeting the merchant for the first time, knew that he was only going to tell them ‘just enough’ about this mission without actually telling them anything, a talent that one would imagine was common for merchants. And yet, the self-styled Spellsword didn’t hesitate to shake hands and follow, Timothy’s promise of a proper recompense sounding too good to pass and quite frankly, he had little alternatives. A stumble from a somewhat-large rock interrupted his thoughts and brought him back to the moment at hand, Brann groaning as he picked himself up from the ground, dusting his green cloak.
“How far are we supposed to wander, again?” he called to Timothy who was leading the group, seemingly having no problems with the terrain despite his heavy burden.
“Further East, friend..” the merchant’s voice was raspy, as if he had to clear his throat “Then a bit to the North. It’s not very far now!”
‘It’s not very far now… You have been saying that since yesterday!’ were Brann’s thoughts as he paused for a moment to catch his breath. Reaching behind on his significantly smaller pack he deftly pulled out his waterskin for a drink, only to discover that there were little over a few drops left.
“You must be joking..” he murmured to himself, shaking the receptacle in the vain hope that water would magically flow from its nuzzle.
The thought of using his magical ability to conjure some fresh water crossed his mind, yet he ultimately decided against it, afraid that the act would fatigue him more than the water would restore and that the chances for HIM to conjure actual drinkable water were rather… slim. Instead, he decided to appeal to the generosity of his companions.
“Anyone care to share?” He asked loudly with a foolish half-smile while holding his waterskin for all to see as the last drop stubbornly clinged to the nuzzle before falling on the rocky terrain underneath.
- "Timothy" has been added to '
Important Personalities'
MachineSoul
