How to Be an Adventurer- World of Gimmok

by Damien Hanson

  “I didn’t think he could sing,” responded Svein.

  “He is killing it. I actually want to listen to him more than I want to eat this sandwich,” chuckled Yenrab before taking a bite.

  Carric kept singing.

  “We’ve fired our bows

  And casted out spells

  Peter Burgh gave me some money

  And the promise that goes with it

  I thank him much

  “But, it has been no bed of roses

  No fame and fortune

  It’s been more fighting

  Skeletons and spiders and trolls

  I consider it a challenge

  Before all sentients out there

  I am going to remove all undead from this dimension

  “And, we adventure on

  and out and forth and with

  “You are the heroes, my friends

  And you will go on fighting my friends

  Because you are the heroes

  You are the heroes

  Against the undead!”*

  * Sung to a tune similar but slightly different from “We Are the Champions” by Queen

  The crowd just went wild. People started to scream with excitement, even ecstasy. Carric continued to jam on. People began to invent dances to the rhythm, joining others and making couples and even trios, as they manically swung to the fast tunes that Carric provided.

  When he finished, to cheers, he pointed at the brewmeister.

  “That’s your man, right there. I just work for him, though for 10% of the day’s profit,” he made up, winking. The people turned and clapped for the gnome, who now looked bewildered and also a bit stymied.

  Yenrab yelled up from his feast.

  “Holy moly, dude; I didn’t know you could play!”

  “I never knew a Yenrab could eat a Yenrab Special. Now we’re both learning, aren’t we!”

  Yenrab laughed, and the crowd followed suit.

  A coin clattered to the stage. A platinum one.

  Astonished, everyone looked at its caster.

  The man was old and a bit fat, with mostly white hair and a goatee.

  “If you all would do us a bit of worldly justice and cast this bard one of the best coins in your purse, I’ll return the favor and buy everyone a round,” the man said with a smile. “Maybe even two or three, depending on how long this great music continues.”

  “On your honor!” Carric replied, launching into an amazing ballad about the horrors of the undead.

  Yenrab, finished with his massive feast, swayed his bloated self through the throngs of dancing and drinking people to find the old gentleman sipping a drink at the bar.

  “What was that and who are you?” Yenrab asked him in suspicious wonder.

  “I’m Pillion, and that was justice. The man is well worthy of this night, whoever he is. I am quite impressed with his talent.”

  “Yeah, he’s having a heck of a night. So, if I might ask, who is Pillion?”

  “You speak in a rather interesting way for a half-orc.”

  “You avoid questions and make racial assumptions in a rather expected way for a human.”

  “Touché, sir,” Pillion shook his old and grizzled head as he chuckled. “I expect you are the famous Yenrab?”

  “So long as you mean famous as a descriptor and not as part of my name, then, yeah, you’ve got me. So, ya know, I’ve been wondering what to expect from a man like you, and well, something or someone above tells me you’re a part of my destiny. Our destiny. What are you doing here?”

  Carric changed to another song, this time an instrumental that felt like it was based on the seasons. It was slow, then it built up to a wild intensity, and then it slowed down again before finally fading.

  “I happen to be looking for adventurers. As surprising as that might seem.”

  “Not as surprising as you might think. Things just kinda sorta slide into my lap these days. So, what are we talking about? And we better get it done fast before the snow comes. A one-day dungeon? Some cave? A cluster of ruins?”

  “Ha-ha, friend Yenrab, nothing nearly so difficult. But, first, let me get you your drink. It would seem that everyone else has already had theirs.”

  “Drinking isn’t really my style, Pillion. Though, once I drop this weight in the loo, I might be ready for some more fantastic eats.”

  “Drinking is my style, and tonight, I really don’t want to talk about jobs. Let me get you your food when you want it, let me drink and maybe share your sup, and let’s agree to meet again, tomorrow night, in negotiation of business.”

  “Yeah, why not. I’ve gotta keep an eye on these lunkheads anyways,” Yenrab said with a kind smile, glancing fondly at his friends. Pillion smiled as well. In the background, Carric sang a song that started fast and chopped down slow, speaking of the condition and threat of this world.

  Chapter 40: Torus Strade and the Hand of Fate

  That evening was nippy—the sort of cold that only the hard north got, when the freezing air battles your outer wear to find some way to gnaw at the raw skin beneath. Snow scented the air, though it did not fall. Perhaps it had not amassed enough of a following yet, and so it was not confident of a victorious march onto the land below? Bern Sandros shivered and cursed, reminiscing back to the warm and dusty alleys of Nemedia City.

  The rest of the party bore it more stoically, each quite accustomed to the fiery chill of Northern Athatia. They’d met and regrouped after their various adventures in the city that day, having supped at a fine pub on the other side of town, and were actually quite happy to be on the road to employment once again.

  And so, they were now back on their way to Pete Burgh’s establishment, chatting happily about this small thing or that. “Did you see that fair-of-face human female shaking what she got last night?” asked Tracy. “I so dig her style. There was something about that dress. If only I could put my finger on it . . .” Then, Tracy started to imitate the human woman of his imagination, swinging hir shapely hips back and forth and sticking out her half-elven chest, all with hir big grin stepping out of hir face.

  “Whirling dervishes, look at you, Tracy. You can dance. But it is exactly what I told you,” said Bern laughing. “It is the humans with the best moves like that lucky lady last night!”

  Tracy and the others laughed, too.

  “Well, I am just going to have to get you all to Freemeet. If you can’t have a good time there, where can you?”

  “The Northwoods,” Yenrab answered, not quite getting the nuance of the question. The group laughed and onward they went.

  It was on the early side and yet already getting so very dark, yet another reminder to them all that winter was well on its way. It was also a mute reminder of the change that was to come. The only beings there were those alcoholic halflings that seemed to be perpetually passed out near a few bottles of elderberry wine.

  Tracy looked over to their table and frowned.

  Pete walked up to Tracy and said, “They were in business shipping produce to this island from some halfling farms somewhere down south. It is always hard to grow vegetables on an island, the soil is not so deep, and they made some good coin. Being halflings, they must have saved a lot. Then, one day some skeletons took their companions. Just like that, in a flash of an eye, their lives were shattered. Now, they just come in, drink, and sleep. I guess it is the only way they can cope.” Pete laughed with bitter sounds. “Sadly, I guess some deaths are good for my business.”

  Svein gave a nod of understanding, then spat and cursed, giving his opinion of the undead in a quite quick and direct manner.

  The party then saw Pillion sitting alone at a private table in the corner at the far end of the tavern where he could watch the comings and goings of the place. He was watching with experience, but not with alertness, as he seemed to be nodding off in his quinquagenarian, or perhaps even older, age.

  Carric thought, He knows the ropes and seems thoughtful and strategic. Too bad his body isn’t so
good at keeping itself in line anymore.

  The man shifted and started, forcing himself alert. He spotted them and smiled, his wrinkled and worn face showing some missing teeth and a scar across his upper lip.

  Yenrab lead the way, with Svein following up the rear in case of unforeseen trouble, and soon enough, everyone found themselves a place at the bench of the old oak table that the old man had decided to take as his headquarters for the evening. It was in sloppy shape, carved into and missing wedges, marred with knife marks, and it had most certainly seen better days. Carric, lost in thought, couldn’t help but think that the item of furniture was a lot like the man sitting at it. Worn down and often cut, but still sturdy and capable of doing its job.

  “Well, gentle”—he glanced at Tracy, who was back to being a woman—“folk, I welcome you to my corner. If you’d like to have something upon which to sup or drink, I am more than willing to pay.”

  “We ate before we came here. Let’s just get—” Yenrab was interrupted by Tracy.

  “Wine. A bottle of the finest.”

  Yenrab looked at Tracy in a sour fashion. Tracy smiled.

  “Hey, man, he said it is on his tab!”

  Pillion laughed. “Yes it is. Please, really, order up what you wish. I’d like us all to start off your new job as good friends.”

  “Yooooooooo!” Pillion yodeled. “Barkeep! Two bottles of your finest wine!”

  The rest of the party cringed.

  “Pillion, the man’s son died not long ago. Let us be solemn here. There are better places to be merry,” Tracy noted.

  Carric added in, “Yeah, this isn’t a great place for this meeting. But thank you for paying for us and offering us employment. What is it that you have for us?”

  Yenrab put up a finger, calling for silence in Bern’s cant, as Pete Burgh made his way to the table bearing two bottles of Eldritch Prime, that magical brew that left you none the worse in the morning but got you well drunk through the night. Bern started whistling and then shut up when he saw Yenrab stare daggers.

  Having left the bottles, each of which was worth over 1000 gold coins, along with golden goblets, on a tray at the table, Pete nodded at them and moved back to his place behind the bar.

  Seeing the askance upon everyone’s face, Pillion smiled and gestured for them to pour. As Yenrab did the honors to everyone’s goblet—well, everyone’s but his own—Pillion began to speak.

  “I am an old veteran of the wars.” There was something about the way he said that word, wars, as if everyone would know exactly what he was talking about. There was more than a hint of sadness and regret. He continued, “I have seen a lot of death. Things that I will never forget—and I am trying to make amends. You may not realize this, but one of the impacts of war is orphans. Lots and lots of orphans. So many parents die, so many young people . . .” Pillion’s voice started breaking up. They could see that the wounds he suffered did not just slice into his flesh and steal his bodily fluids. His soul hurt and that hurt was cut deep into the lines of his face and into the timbre of his voice.

  Tracy looked at him in an intense manner, evaluating the man as he had once done to Svein Novogord not so long ago. She probed the veteran with her insight and wisdom, seeking the source of his pain and the best way to remedy it. The others, though, listened carefully, nodding at the right moments and showing interest in all he had to say, all while taking hearty quaffs of Prime. All but Yenrab, that is, who sighed down at his goblet of water, never having gotten a taste for any of the alcohols of the world. He wondered how much backstory this old fellow had inside him.

  “. . . young people die in war. And they leave so much promise behind—in their now-orphaned children as well. It will break your heart. So, I thought if no one else is going to take responsibility for the orphans, I will. Every man must make his stand somewhere, and this is mine. So, I started an orphanage in the most out-of-the-way place I could find away—away from all the madness in this world—so I built it out in the cold in the village of Torus Strade, where I thought the madness would never find me. But, the safe spaces in this world have become smaller and smaller, and the madness is creeping in on us, and that is why I set out looking for the right kind of adventurers. The kind of adventurers that were not tied down and could come to this out-of-the-way place, but capable of fighting against—against—I just call it the madness.”

  Pillion stopped and let them take it all in. Yenrab looked over all of them and then broke the silence.

  “Give us a minute to confer. We work as a group.”

  “I understand. I will wait over there. When you have decided, come get me. But I would be really glad to have adventurers like you. Your actions here in Rising Action were impressive. I think you will make a great difference in this world.”

  “Thank you,” said Yenrab with a wave of a hand and heroic humility. “We will be just a minute.”

  Pillion walked away.

  “So, what do you think?” asked Yenrab. “We are unemployed. A job is a job.”

  “I’m in,” said Wex. “I am ready for a good fight.”

  Carric and Bern seemed lost in thought.

  Svein cleared his voice.

  “I am out. All of this recent action has made me rethink who I am and what I am doing. I’m back in the saddle and ready to fight the undead, and for that, I thank you, my friends. I am also a man who met a girl, Raulina, last night and who thinks that maybe this winter might be better spent with her and the fine people of Rising Action.”

  Yenrab growled a little, but his face showed he was in good humor.

  “Svein, I’ve never met a man who walked a straighter and more honorable path. Don’t let the door hit your butt on the way out,” Wex said.

  “I thank you for your concern,” Svein said wryly, concealing only a bit of his own grin.

  “Well, Svein, stay with us for the rest of the evening and let us celebrate your new-found love. In times like these, we can all use something so beautiful and wonderful to celebrate. Well wishes to you!” Carric said, raising a goblet. They all clattered together in a show of brotherhood, each drinking a bit in silent thought.

  After that moment passed, Tracy raised his hand.

  “Why are you raising your hand, Tracy?” asked Yenrab.

  “I want to speak,” said Tracy matter-of-factly.

  “Now is the time to do it. Go ahead.”

  “I sense something horrifically scarred about Pillion. I get the feeling he is hiding a mystery. I know what I am telling you is just feelings, but I think it might be worthwhile to follow Pillion and solve this mystery. I sense that it is a very important thing to do.”

  “I guess it is my turn to speak,” said Carric. “I am not against following him. It is a job, and I have my reasons. Why not?”

  “Yes, I have my reasons too,” said Bern. “I think I could join in this adventure.”

  “Well then, shall we tell Pillion we will join him?” asked Yenrab.

  Bern, Carric, Tracy, and Wex all said, “In.”

  “In it is,” affirmed Yenrab.

  The group, with Yenrab in the lead, followed by Tracy, Bern, and Wex commenting together, and Carric bringing up the rear, wandered over to Pillion.

  “Okay, you have a deal,” said Yenrab, reaching his hand out.

  Yenrab and Pillion shook hands. They would leave on the morrow.

  The End

  The adventure has ended . . .

  but others are on the way.

  A second book with the adventuring party known as Extermination of Things that Hurt Us and Are Really Bad is coming in 2020. You can sign up for notification on releases at worldofgimmok@gmail.com

  Illustrated by Paul Benford a.k.a: ShredGuy or ShredGuyComics

  From the likes of sci-fi adventure teen manga comic, Ex Terra.

  You can follow and keep up to date with his fantasy and sci-fi adventures at:

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  About the Author

  Damien Hanson is a huge Dungeons and Dragons nerd and DMs his own group of gamers when he and they have the time.

  Damien is a writer, a gamer, and an educator. He lives in Gimpo-Si, South Korea with his wife and son.