How to Be an Adventurer- World of Gimmok

by Damien Hanson

  Carric latched on to the topic, glad for the distraction. “That is an interesting thought, Yenrab. So, if we were to list it out, there would be a basic dungeons and dragons, and then we would move on to an advanced dungeons and dragons?”

  “Yeah,” answered Yenrab, losing more and more of the previous encounter with each spoken word. “I think there would be editions, ya know, most probably enumerated ordinally, that each focus on a different aspect of life.”

  “Like an advanced dungeons and dragons, 1st edition, 2nd, etc.?” The bard was enthralled. It made so much sense!

  “Yeah. I sometimes work on it in my head to go to sleep. I think I’ve figured my way up to an advanced dungeons and dragons, fifth edition, but I’m not entirely positive I grasp it all yet.”

  Tracy was just staring at the half-orc. “You, just, uh . . . what are you?” He broke into an uncharacteristic laugh and then said, “Damn, Yenrab, you complete me!”

  The whole party had a bit of a chuckle, mentally escaping from the prophetic moments of before. Life wasn’t a game for them, no matter how much the gods and the Gamer might wish it. Then Yenrab picked up the parchment the wrong way up, spluttered, and handed it back over to Tracy. The sorcerer smirked.

  “Alright, guys. It says here that a guy and gal seem to have run off; the dad is angry-sad, and we get three hundred and fifty gold coins if we find his son, dead or alive. It’ll take maybe a week to get there across the Great Lake. That doesn’t sound bad at all!”

  Yenrab held up a finger. “But, everyone, let me tell you, ya know, we’ll have to look fast because winter is coming in fast.” Yenrab looked back and forth between them, all business.

  “That’s a good amount of gold. Well enough to winter there if we need to. What’s the place?” asked Bern.

  “Rising Action. A decent-sized town near the border of the Eastern Reaches. Settlers supply there and get one last festival before moving on to settle their own homesteads in the land past their border,” lectured Yenrab.

  “So, it is a wagon town. Got it. I bet the couple eloped without the dad’s permission and right now are wishing they’d waited until spring to set off. Oh, the folly and romance of youth,” commented Carric, tickling a few strings on his lute.

  “How are we going to pay for a ship?” asked Bern.

  “Well, the guild is paying our way for some reason,” Carric said, suspicious, his thoughts going back to the meeting with David Brit. “But I assume we’re gonna have to pay them back. And, you know what, I’m fine with that,” the bard finished.

  ***

  The adventurers walked to the dock with a spring in their step. Life had been difficult. But before that, it had been good. And, well, bless the gods because it was about to be good again. Boarding the ship was a breeze, and the vessel was not the rat-infested, termite-ridden type generally described in bardic tales; nor was it the invincible, gleaming, godsblessed chariot that stood as the pathetic ship’s heroic counterpart. It was simply a good, solid trading vessel with a streamlined hull, oars out its sides, with newly returned crew eager for new coin.

  Looking at the crew members fresh from recreation and eager to be off, the barbarian couldn’t help but feel thankful for this new quest.

  “It is good to have a job,” said Yenrab.

  “Speak for yourself,” replied Bern with a grimace. “We all just got told we’re all gonna die if we don’t take something common like everyone else.”

  “If you want to go back to the streets, this is your last chance. For me, well, I’m already decided. One of me is, anyways,” grinned Tracy.

  “Yeah, I think we are going to be okay,” said Carric with enthusiasm, his face strange in its confidence. “I really do!”

  Chapter 23: Talking Fish

  How to be an Adventurer—Ships in Lakes; A Marriage Made by Springs

  The world is filled with dangerous lakes and rivers, each replete with its own sets of monsters and mayhem. But do not fret, for there is also bounty to be found within these depths . . .

  The Great Lake of Nemedia, that vast almost-sea of freshwater, filled with fish, clams, and cray, is a place full of adventure to those equipped for it. Dive in if you dare. But not without the powers necessary to breathe underwater and see in the darkest of murky depths.

  For the beginner adventurer, the Great Lake is much better known not as a kingdom of merpeople or as a repository of treasure-laden ruins, but rather as a means of fast transportation. Upon the deck of a well-designed trireme, the adventuring party can propel itself forward at tremendous speeds. Be wary of sea monsters, for the hulls of strong oaken timber crush easily under the blows of the most apex beasts. But be joyful as well—the undersea environment is a boon to all manner of animals, and their specimens grow quite large and juicy. Persons with tackle and bait, as well as a good deal of will, may find themselves the proud catchers of a stupendous prize.

  ***

  How to be an Adventurer—Gods and Their Ways

  This world is filled with gods, many more than a normal realm could sustain. But Gimmok is different. It lies at the edge of another plane, and is filled with more energy than any other place that resides there. The stars are different because, at the edge of the universe, the place is different. All of this power amplifies the sacrifices and prayers of the common folk and creates a bright and shining breadbasket of power for deities all across the multiverse.

  Beware their machinations, for they are many. Destiny is the name given to missions placed over the necks of those doing the gods’ work. As one of the chosen, accept that a great many gods will try to harm you, or otherwise break you from your path. Accept the unexpected, for life is no longer as easy as waking up early to perform your daily chores.

  ***

  How to be an Adventurer—Smaller Cities in the Larger World

  Smaller cities are, in many ways, a menagerie of strange and fantastic beasts. Unlike their larger brethren, they show tremendous variety in style and capacity. Each has its own boons coupled with their own banes, and leaders of capacity are often better ingrained and more powerful than those over the chaotic demos of the metropolises.

  In such a place, as usual, it is good to visit the tavern. People in small cities talk and take an unhealthy interest in their neighbors. Gossip, chat, and find out what is around and who has what to offer. Help can come from the most unexpected of people in a tavern. Meet with many, listen carefully to some, and trust but a few. For these are dangerous lands full of dangerous beings.

  Smaller cities are also a good place for the aspiring neophyte entertainer. Such cities don’t often receive people of talent. Take advantage of your abilities and practice your craft for some additional gold, and maybe a few favors. Drink plus song can bring out tales that would never otherwise never see the light of day.

  Beware, though, to the scoundrel, for the smaller cities are better knit, much like clans or tribes of kinfolk. They are often wary of outsiders, and if feeling attacked or cheated, they can turn fast, going from idyllic to murderous in no time at all.

  ***

  The ship was fast, a trireme with three decks of oars and a lot of push, no matter what the weather. The lake threw mighty waves upon which it bobbed and tried to twirl, but the steady oarsmen were well proficient in what they did, freemen to a man, and experts of their trade.

  The air felt fresh and crisp, with some clouds here and there for ambience, but nothing threatening upon the horizon. Sunlight glared from glassy blue waves into the eyes of the unfortunate human, who already had enough to worry about.

  “Blearghhh!” Bern exclaimed to his minstrel friend, vomiting over the side of the ship. “Ugh.” Cough. Cough. “What is the matter with this water?”

  “They’re called waves, my friend, and had you needed to take an ocean route, you’d have already experienced them,” chuckled Carric Smith with sympathy, having already dealt with the same.

  “Hurgh!” the rogue responded enthusiastically.

 
Tracy twirled about them, laughing. They were just their first day in, and though the half-elf had never been on anything but an elven craft, whose tremendous and sleek design made the waves absolutely unknown to their passengers, he was not feeling at all queasy here on a human one.

  “We clap the sea, and the sea claps back! How wondrous!” the wild mage yelled, to the grins of sailors, and even a salute. He, for he had changed once again, leaped and skipped in ecstasy.

  “Oh gods,” Bern prayed, throwing more lunch to the fish.

  “This isn’t a sea,” Carric informed them, both happy and at ease. “This is the Great Lake. It is huge, but if you taste it, there is no salt. There are waves, but there are no sharks. This is where, in the tale of Cosmo Big Bottom, the god without a clue sat upon Gimmok, and his buttocks gouged the ground beneath it!”

  “Thanks, Big Bottom!” Tracy yelled up to the sky.

  Sailors guffawed about them.

  “It’s a sea tale, Tracy. I’m sure you’ll hear enough of them to feel sick by the time this voyage is over.”

  “I got another one!” yelled the barbarian, pulling a nine-foot sturgeon from out of the ship’s wake.

  “Meat for days!” the sailors yelled in unison, something they had done with every catch. Carric had already written it down as a congratulatory saying of the region.

  Bern looked at this latest beast from the Great Lake’s depths, dry-heaved, and ran down to the hold.

  The sailors laughed, and coins clinked between them. Apparently, some had won a wager.

  ***

  The fishing line rode around another time, straining at its own inner tendons. The half-orc grunted yet again, his muscles bulging and sweat pouring down from his forehead as he battled the beast from the deep. This was not any ordinary fish, its own tremendous strength forcing the barbarian to feel his way through, giving when it lunged rather than suffer a broken line. All hands on deck watched in surprised and tense silence.

  “Grahh!” the man heaved, swearing a bit in orcish as the thing lunged again.

  “Is he going to get it?” Carric whispered to Tracy, who stood, fascinated, beside him.

  “I don’t know, friend Carric. I almost think it might get him!” the wild mage declared with excitement. “For sure, the beast of the sea is the more intelligent of the two!”

  Yenrab heard and chuckled, almost losing his pole. A lot of angry eyes turned on the half-elves.

  “Srountin Crag, you landing-loving jerks. This catch, if made, means good fortune to us all!”

  The crew all murmured their angry assent. Perhaps they would have talked if they weren’t so worried about what was all on the line.

  “Urrgh!” the half-orc assented, struggling to keep things in check. There was a tremendous splash out in the friendly waves of the calm and sunny lake.

  “Sah. Wah,” sounded the waves themselves as they gently lapped against the hull of their trireme.

  “Gharag will see you burn forever,” they whispered, making him jerk his pole in sudden surprise—just as the thing had decided to rest. Yanking hard, with muscles that could quite literally pull a ton of weight, he pulled some gigantic king of a fish, stark-white and well his twice and a half in height, onto the deck. The crew gasped.

  “Well,” said the never-observant wild mage observantly, “that line should almost definitely have broken. At least, the pole is long and firm.”

  One of the sailors chuckled and was cursed into silence.

  “Ga!” yelled the half-orc, axeless. The thing flopped about in a gasping melee. The half-human began to wrestle in immediately.

  “Ooh!” the sailors crowed, their luck perhaps increasing by the moment.

  “This is getting ridiculous,” Carric stated in fear for his friend. He reached for his harmonica, holstered to his side.

  “Bah, bard. It ain’t caught luck ‘less it stops fighting. Put yer toys ‘ways.”

  The others murmured their assent.

  Another called to him kindly, “Your friend is amazing. Weaevese will get ‘im t’rough.”

  Carric did a quick thought and nodded. As one of the few gods native to this world, he was a good one to call upon for such a task.

  Yenrab blasted the fish twice with his powerful fists, his biceps rising like pistons. It had slapped him once on approach, leaving a reddening welt upon his face, but otherwise he defeated it without consequence.

  ***

  “Honest to Bear above, the damn fish talked! Or the sea did. Or something did!” the anxious barbarian said, pacing back and forth in their cabin. It wasn’t much of a pace due to the size of their quarters.

  “Hey, maybe it was a talking fish!” Tracy exuberated. “We have guys like that in the Freemeetian Commune. They usually tell us not to eat them as we pull them in.”

  Carric looked a bit angry at that. Yenrab paused, but decided there were more important things at play.

  “Look, that was probably your Grand Poombah or whoever playing games on you. But this was real! This is something I heard right before I grabbed the book!”

  “That sounds like a trick. Like something those trout back in the Freemeet might say,” Tracy noted. “Those damn tricky trout.”

  “What? No. No! This is something serious guys. Like, this and the book are tied together!” he said exasperated, feeling a real sense of danger.

  Carric nodded.

  “Well, that figures. I think our book might be an artifact. Or an intelligent item. Or a quest item. None of them are good for us exactly . . . but not bad either.”

  “Mate, this isn’t at all what I was signing up for back there in the forest,” Bern Sandros groused, now over the sea sickness that had formerly gripped him. “I just wanted to be fancy and to give something back to my people.”

  Carric nodded again, though his face showed a case of mild disbelief. His fingers steepled in front of him, and he let off a sigh.

  “Yenrab, are you sure about this? I mean, there was that day months ago that turned black and a voice told us to go back, but that was in a magic fallout zone,” he deliberated with a frown.

  “I swear upon the Great Bear above. What do we do now?” he asked, lost and out of his element.

  “Well, I guess we go on. What else can we do? We’re broke. But I don’t mind saying that I am not happy to be stuck in some god’s business. Can we even go back?” Bern asked, talkative and a bit frantic. Tracy observed the three of them and didn’t like what he saw at all.

  “Guys, settle down; let’s talk this out. Yenrab, what did he say?”

  “Gharag will see you burn forever,” the ham-fisted barbarian responded. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  Tracy was calm and collected as he parsed this information.

  “When did you hear this before, Yenrab?”

  “When I got the book. When I left my tribe for good and saved some settler girl from a very strange rogue. He told me this. And he had the book in his pack.”

  “So, it’s destiny we’re trapped in? Well, that’s just great,” complained the assassin, pushing his elbows out farther onto the table as he leaned forward in frustration.

  “Destiny is a song, written and ordered, but it is also still just the first draft. Whatever has been planned for us has gotta be better than getting chased out of bars and sleeping in slums,” Carric intervened. “The book might make it look easy, but it never actually said it is easy. We’re adventurers now, aren’t we? Tried and true? This is what happens to the good ones. The gods give them stuff, give them a direction, and send them on their way. Then the heroes improvise and change the song to sound better to their ear. We don’t have to end up like David Brit.”

  “Yeah, we might end up dead well before the songs are composed at all,” Bern stated, shutting down conversation on the topic.

  ***

  The air below deck stank of fish, old alcohol, new alcohol, and body sweat. It was crowded, but not so much so that Bern couldn’t play away his worries over his ra
tion of rum, as well as those of several others.

  “Huzzah!” he exclaimed, laughing, as he scraped up coppers from the pitted table. “I’m destined to win!” he confided, with eye-watering breath, to the one-eyed goblin next to him. The humanoid scowled and warded himself with some unrecognizable sign.

  The human to his left clapped his back in congratulations and scraped up the stained cards from the table, shuffling and riffling them with ease.

  “You might not want to say such t’ings, friend. We got too many gods in dis world, and one might destine ya if you ain’t careful.”

  Up above, dimly heard through the planks that made the deck, played the bard. His words and notes rang out quite well in the fresh air of the sea, and appreciation was broadly given by the crew. Yenrab nodded along at the rail, trying again to hear the words of some angry and vengeful god, and Tracy stood by his side, looking over the horizon.

  “Ya know, it isn’t fair,” Yenrab mentioned as Carric tromped and stomped in a lively jig.

  “What isn’t fair, friend Yenrab?” Tracy asked, his voice calm and reassuring.

  “All of this destiny stuff. I mean, I had a choice not to take it, and I could be hunting and wrestling and living with my tribe, but yet, I feel like I didn’t have a choice at all, and that all got stolen from me!”

  Tracy smiled. “I thought you all were doing this to get rich?”

  “Nah. What use is a bunch of money to a big dumb barbarian? I’m here because of that book. I knew the moment I saw it that I was going to be doing what it said.”

  “That’s fair, Yenrab. But let me ask you this. If this destiny that lays upon you is just the first draft of a song, like Carric said, why don’t you change it? Just go back to your village and walk away? Make it come to you?”

  Yenrab almost responded. But, he had to admit, he didn’t know the answer.

  ***

  The quartet was a bit more cheerful when the gentle slopes of the far shore finally came into sight. All of this destiny stuff felt pretty rough, but what was it really? Just a scary word to mean the gods were interested in them. Talking lakes, or fish, weren’t anything in the large scale of things. And there was money to be made.