How to Be an Adventurer- World of Gimmok

by Damien Hanson

  “Sometimes you just gotta,” the rogue said, his face very serious. “Sometimes if you don’t, they’ll all just pile on you until you can’t breathe. It’s all right and good to say you are sorry, but some of these guys, mate, they are like sharks. Sorry is just blood in the water, and if you give that to them, they’ll bring their mates and rip you to shreds.”

  Carric looked down at the ground in an apparent attempt to not verbally disagree.

  “It is so interesting that the people of this land can turn into sharks,” Tracy said, skipping at the edge of the party. He put his arms up above his head into a fin and made a beeline for Yenrab. “I mean, the Grand Sorcan could do that I guess, but even he would have problems making them breathe and move on land. Do they swim through the air?”

  “Tracy,” the bard broke in, “no, it isn’t at all like that. He’s just saying that people will often make your life difficult if you say something wrong or if they take you out of context.”

  “Ah, you mean like that cleric?” Tracy asked innocently.

  Yenrab nodded at the idea, but stayed quiet, listening.

  “That cleric is the very torment that keeps those without money up at night,” Carric stated with vehemence. “He is the stuff of nightmares.”

  Bern nodded his agreement.

  “Yeah, mates, there has gotta be a better way to do all of this. It is free magic from the sky.”

  “Someone’s still gotta pay their bills, though,” Tracy said, stopping and standing still. “I liked him. I thought he explained it well too. That money doesn’t go to making them rich. It goes to spreading the faith, to making more healers, and to building temples and hiring more support staff. Right?”

  Bern and Carric stared at the man, dumbfounded.

  “Whoo-hoo, Tracy,” Yenrab said laughing. “You really are an apt study of our culture.”

  The man did a pirouette and then bowed.

  “That’s what I’m here for. Now, if you want to be mad, be mad at the guys who laughed when they thought Yenrab was dead.”

  “Yeah. Yeah!” Bern got animated. “Power to the people!”

  Carric tasted the words, analyzing their meaning.

  “I think it’s great, Bern. ‘Power to the People,’” he spoke, and then paused. “Can I assume that we are the people?”

  “Heck yeah, we are the people.”

  “I’m one person but also three people,” Tracy confided. “Sometimes four, and that confuses me.”

  Those words, and the concepts behind them, made everyone go quiet as they thought about it all. They crossed, in silence, from the sewer-stained streets they had been traversing to a straw-covered, sweeter-smelling merchant’s quarter. It was dusk, but that hadn’t stopped the stalls’ merchants from screaming their goods.

  A scrawny boy came up to them, a flaring torch in hand.

  “A cop an hour, like as not; whaddya say then?”

  Yenrab, Carric, and Tracy all exchanged confused and helpless glances.

  “Bugger off, yuh purse-snatching street weasel. I’d pummel yer mother if she ain’ted had a good pummeling already. Asides, we’re drop-cut bottom and looking to score,” Bern Sandros spoke, happy and obviously having fun.

  “Right-o, Guv’nor. No serpent’s den out ‘ere, though the widow be running trade. Have a winning season!” the boy answered, his rotted and warped teeth hanging out in a deep-dished smile.

  Then he moved off to the next group without light.

  “Umm,” Yenrab said.

  Carric was excited, though.

  “Bern, was that thieves’ cant?” he asked very loudly, oblivious to his surroundings.

  “Carric,” the assassin said, a single finger to his lips. “Mind if you try not to advertise all of that out here, mate?”

  “Oh, gods, sorry,” Carric murmured in a low voice.

  “Umm,” Yenrab said.

  “Were you planning a heist?” Tracy asked, adopting a stealthy crouch and padding forward lightly.

  “What? No. Little mate, there was. I could see it from a kilometer away.”

  “What’s a kilometer?” Yenrab asked with a yawn.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s right. It’s miles everywhere else. Gonna be miles here in the republic soon too if it isn’t already. Feet and miles. What a bloody broken system,” the rogue groused. “Anyways, it is like this. Little man uses his torch to light our way. We go, get drunk, then he leads us home, but really he leads us to a gang that beats us up and takes our stuff. It’s very effective.”

  Carric shivered. “I bet.”

  “Was that all you guys talked about?” Yenrab asked.

  “Nah, I let him know that we are damn near broke and also asked him about the local thieves’ guild and the black market. He said the thieves’ guild is gone for now, and the Weeping Widow is the basic base of operations for black market and rogue stuff at present.”

  “That’s good to know. Thank you. Now I know,” Yenrab said.

  “And knowing is half the battle,” Tracy added wisely.

  ***

  “So, Bern, ‘Power to the People’?” Carric asked as they got closer to the Weeping Widow.

  Bern nodded. “Yeah, mate. We’ll have Yenrab guard the door and Tracy, well, do Tracy stuff, and I’m gonna pickpocket them while you go up there on stage, if they let you, and sing. We’ll hit them from every angle, those righteous, uh”—Bern looked around himself, seeing who and what was in the vicinity—“white-robed elven priestesses.”

  With a gloop, three elven priestess, robed in white, broke from invisibility nearby, giving him a nasty glare as they continued on their way to the temple district.

  “What in the world?” Bern asked himself and the gods above.

  “It’s a plan, Bern,” Carric moved on, though frowning slightly. “Is there any chance those priestesses are going to do something to mess this up?”

  “Nah, mate, those cleric types have broom handles stuffed so far up themselves that they’d have us in temple confessing our sins right now if they’d heard any of it but the last part. They’re a bunch of sticks in the mud, like paladins.”

  “What in gods’ names . . .” a holy warrior began, rising up from his unseen spot in the queue of a stall.

  Bern groaned.

  ***

  There it was, again, the Weeping Widow. It was dark now, but so many lanterns hung about the place that it shone like its own moon. There was the smell of herb and tobacco smoke, rising up from packs of people hanging around the outside, talking of the tournament and of the excitements life offers. Spilled alcohol, and even the faint whiff of vomit, wove their way through it all to create that aroma best named Tavern. It echoed out the cacophonous noise of drunk and drinking souls.

  “Well, mates, friends, are we going to do this?” Bern asked with his crooked smile, flexing and stretching to prepare.

  “Power to the People,” Carric pronounced, pumping his fist.

  “Sweet move,” Bern noted. “I’ll have to add that to it all.”

  “Thanks!” the bard gushed.

  “So, guys, we’re just doing this because they are bad people, right? I mean, this isn’t going to become a regular thing, is it?” Yenrab worried.

  Tracy looked at them all and, without a word, walked into the bar.

  “Just this one time, bro. We lost everything, and we need to take it back,” Bern persuaded him.

  “And besides, healthcare should be a right! ‘Power to the People,’” Carric bellowed at way too passionate a volume. A few drunks heard just the last bit and shouted their enthusiastic support.

  “Alright, I’m just making sure. Man, today was a mess.”

  “That was the day, friend Yenrab. Luck, be a lady tonight,” Carric responded, giving Felicia, the goddess of chance, a good prayer before moving on.

  ***

  The three of them walked, following the same route that had been laid by Tracy. A few of the patrons outside gave them glances, but no one was very interested. Th
ey were just adventurers. There was nothing novel, rare, famous, or female about them.

  Its double doors were wide open, letting out the stink and smoke of its interior while also letting in the cool and fresh air from the outside. Yenrab led the trio as they entered together.

  The tavern was quite crowded and it looked much smaller on the inside than its exterior had suggested. There was a push and pull to the people, as this knot or that jostled for just a bit more space, or perhaps for a route to somewhere else. It wasn’t so difficult for Yenrab, though, who simply tore through that wall of bodies as he trod within. A few cursed, but their words fell silent when they saw the cause of their discomfort.

  “Well, it sure is crowded,” Yenrab said, looking about with tribal innocence.

  He checked his immediate vicinity after he failed to get an answer. His friends were already gone.

  “Well, ya know, they could have said something,” he muttered to himself as he took a place at the door and began scanning for them. He knew what was going down, and he readied himself in case things took another turn for the worse.

  ***

  As the party entered, Bern’s eyes swung out and about, finding weaknesses and treasures.

  This is an absolute gold mine, he realized, his eyes riding the heavy purses of drunk and well-to-do imperceptive townspeople.

  A part of him didn’t want to. A part of him told him that street-filching in the borders of the Nemedian empire was something different from this. But that angel on his shoulder, wings caked with dirt and body skinny with malnutrition, stood no contest against the bulky, muscle-bound devil on the other. He grinned in a bit of dark comedy at the brief protest. Then, looking at the bard, he winked and he slipped off into the crowd.

  ***

  Carric’s head was a bit in the clouds, thinking about that stage he spied in the far corner, himself standing on it, and people cheering wildly. Bern was winking at him about something, and he winked back to get him off to do whatever. It wasn’t worth the fuss to figure out what he meant.

  The stage. It meant so much to him. Yenrab had said something. It didn’t matter. He charted a path around and between the pulsing horde, and began to slide his way through. Destiny was in the air.

  ***

  Tracy was still stuck in the crowd, trying to find his way to the bar. It was a losing struggle.

  Not far off, he saw a blonde woman part the waves like some avatar of a goddess. His inner psyches shrieked.

  You’ve gotta let me drive! his female self yelled.

  Not fair at all! This is my turn! his androgyny kicked back.

  I don’t get it. Why are they so afraid of her? male Tracy asked in bewilderment.

  They stared back in wonder.

  Haven’t you figured it out yet? they asked back in unison.

  I guess not, he answered. His eyes followed the posterior of the woman as she moved on. The sway was hypnotic.

  That! That right there! It’s even rubbed off on you! the two bellowed. His head hurt.

  He staggered a bit, and then he understood. Wow, he hadn’t realized.

  Yeah, you didn’t, his female self snickered. Androgeny just gave him a pointed look.

  Alright. I get it. You win, the man admitted.

  Sweet, said his female id.

  No way, woman, male Tracy said in victory. It is Androgeny’s turn.

  Yay! Androgeny yelled, scrambling into the driver’s seat, large breasts sprouting to the shocked wonder of a baffled crowd.

  ***

  There’s Tracy, Yenrab noted, seeing that he was a she again, and that she was at the bar getting free drinks because of course she was. He still hadn’t found Bern, but there was Carric making his way confidently to the stage, his lute prepped and his harmonica wired to his head.

  Everything’s gonna be fine, ya know.

  Next to him, people were standing around playing a bar game with a weighted stick in one hand and a tankard in the other. They’d throw the stick up straight, and its lack of balance would throw it into a spiral. While in such a state, the players would try to get it to land lightside first into their mug.

  “Derla!” they cheered as a skinny man in a ragged tunic hit his mark. “Bring the man a drink!”

  It was an interesting spot to be ensconced, for it afforded him such a tremendous vantage point. His eyes toured the place.

  There was a table of elven adventurers, well fitted, all drinking wine out of goblets while poring studiously over some parchment.

  There were local toughs in the corner, including the man who had beaten him at the fight. Dumbface McCheatington, the Champion Liar of Dumb Dumb land. Yenrab stared daggers at him, imagining the man’s twinkle toes popping, one by one. One day, he vowed, angry to have been bested by such an ugly, dumb, lazy, and ignorant baboon-faced dunce.

  He saw some other rough-and-tumble men from the match as well.

  And he saw that Carric was on the stage and that, though he hadn’t started yet, a group of humans had moved in to the dance space in front of it, their faces ablush with alcohol and a frisky will to shake and boogie.

  This looks absolutely promising in every single way, the big half-human thought, smiling in pleasure at his friend’s good fortune.

  Chapter 20: No Encores Necessary

  Carric moved up to the now empty stage, sizing it up with a professional eye.

  This isn’t exactly what I was thinking of, but it’ll do.

  It was small. Carric hadn’t thought it would be so small. The Weeping Widow was a place of fame and fortune. This just didn’t feel right. The bard was a little disappointed.

  But not too much so. It was old and wooden and creaking from too much use alongside too little repair. It held but a single warped wooden chair. But it was functional. And it would do.

  He looked out over the growing crowd at the foot of his musical throne. His palms got a bit sweaty. It was his first time as a real bard, out in the world, performing on a stage. His arms felt weak and his stomach felt heavy. His excitement faded, replaced by an icy fear.

  Woah. Carric, you can do this.

  He tuned his lute, strumming with fingers that felt the size of ogres. He felt a bit clumsy, but he pushed on.

  Please. I just want to be one of them. The entertainers. I want to make music. Music that people love.

  He steadied himself, blowing a few practice chords on his harmonica and readjusting its rig to perfection. His hands dripped, a tsunami of nerves, excitement, and want made physical by excretion.

  Come on, come on.

  He wiped his hands on his woolen trousers. It really was as they said it would be back in Bard College. A fight or flight moment, challenging you to the core.

  Don’t worry. You’ve got this. They’re drunk and ready for some good tunes. Really, what could go wrong?

  ***

  Bern was slinking and scouting a lot, but getting little. A lot of the purses were equipped with various anti-theft devices. A jingler on this one, just a bunch of tiny bells made to whine a high tinny at every strike. They were very effective at warning anyone of a theft taking place. That one over there had the faint runes of something. Maybe it was a fake, but Bern wasn’t about to stake his life on it. He’d swung through and lifted one, but it was apparently a decoy, as his check for traps discovered. Had he opened the heavy purse it would have exploded something all over him and those around him. Probably a dye. And then they’d all have been nabbed and put into holding until they figured out it was him, and hung him from a rope, probably.

  No, this wasn’t working out alright at all. Especially since each swoop took so much time and effort. He’d checked two and grabbed one, now he had to wait till he could swing through again or else just paint a target on his face.

  The rogue wanted to sigh but knew well better. The sound would draw attention, even in a place as loud as this.

  Some days are meant to be spent at home. The Tekkies have washed over you and just made things bad. When you get
up and the day’s gone siff, well, come now, laaitie, it’s time to go home.

  “No,” the human whispered to himself, well below his own hearing. “The Tekkies are just a myth. The spirits are just false words from a horrendous emperor.”

  He didn’t quite believe himself, but he bit his lip. Today was going to end well. His time was going to come.

  ***

  Tracy was quite happy up at the bar. The world had become hir oyster. A trio of guys bought hir drinks, and they talked about Freemeet. It had also started to spin a bit at the edges.

  “That’s some heavy stuff you are all giving me. Thank you, good friends!” the sorcerer noted, Androgeny riding a self-esteem high as booze ensconced his id.

  Bling, bling, bling. Phoom, phoom.

  Ah, hey, there was Tracy at the stage, warming up to make some happiness. Tracy felt like getting up, but his legs disagreed. Things were a bit strange at the moment.

  The guys around her were cheering and congratulating her.

  “Man, she can really put ‘em down, ya?”

  “Dude, three kobold kamikazes, a splash of ettin brew, at least five stinking ales. I’m not sure I could do that all in an hour.”

  “Time to take her home?” another suggested, a creepy edge to his voice.

  I don’t exactly know what that is, but I don’t like it, warned the woman.

  Hey, man, is this like that whole butt-watching thing? asked Androgeny.

  Yeah. I think so. I’m still learning the ropes. This isn’t the Freemeet anymore, for sure. Maybe male-up a bit more?

  Tracy grabbed hir chin on the second try, sprouting dark whiskers.

  “What in the gods’ names?!” one of the men yelled, before simply turning and bolting off.

  The other two stayed.

  “So, that’s pretty terrific. Are you a guy or a gal?” the one ventured, both clearly confused.

  “I’m both right now. Sometimes, I’m one or the other. Very rarely I’m neither.”

  One guy looked a little strange.

  “Yeah, okay. Well, I’m gonna go take a piss.”

  The other seemed calm, though.

  “That is pretty fantastic. I wish I could do that. Keep telling me about the Freemeet, my bro-sis. That place sounds fantastic.”