“Just something my father gave me some time ago,” he replied. “I’ve found they come in useful every now and then.”
“I’ve never seen anything like them before,” he said.
Bart nodded at that. “Not too surprising. Now, let’s head back to the Sterling Sheep.”
“You mean we’re not through yet?” asked Chad.
“Good heavens no,” replied Bart with a grin.
Chad followed Bart as he again ran across the lawn to the lane leading back to town. He wondered about his friend. Bart had never gone into very much detail about his life before coming to Quillim, though of course he and Riyan hadn’t been all that curious in the first place. But now he wondered who this Bart could be and what had driven him to choose this area to live in. He was pretty sure he knew what those tools in the piece of leather meant. Though he had never seen their like before, he would bet anything that they were lockpicks.
Back at the lane leading into town, Bart picked up speed. “Have to get there before they leave,” he said.
Not understanding the hurry, Chad didn’t really care. This was the most adventure he had ever been a part of. They made their way through the darkened streets until the inn appeared ahead of them.
When they drew close, Bart had Chad stay back as he went to the window and looked in to the dining area of the Sterling Sheep. He stood there a moment peering inside before turning around and rejoining Chad. “They’re still in there,” he said. “Wait here.” Then without an explanation, Bart returned to the window. While he stood there, Chad saw him remove the jar of rouge and do something with it. In the dark he couldn’t see just what he did. After a few minutes Bart closed the jar and replaced it within the bag.
Another five minutes passed as he stood there looking in through the window. Then he abruptly turned towards the back of the inn and signaled for Chad to join him. “Whatever you do, don’t make a sound,” he said in a hushed whisper when Chad joined him. “Understand?”
Chad nodded and then followed him to the rear of the inn. They reached the rear courtyard just as a figure exited from the back door. Even in the shadows of the courtyard, Chad recognized Rupert’s silhouette. He was walking across the courtyard to the jakes along the rear wall.
Bart motioned for Chad to stop while he continued toward Rupert. Chad was amazed at how silently Bart was able to move. Other than Rupert’s footsteps and the music coming from the inn, no other sound disturbed the quiet of the courtyard. Then just as Rupert opened the door to the jakes, Bart grabbed him. Putting one hand alongside his throat and the other on his back, Bart pushed him into the jakes and shut the door.
Chad saw Bart motioning for him to hurry and join him. He hurried over and Bart indicated for him to keep the door closed.
Bang!
Rupert struck the door from the inside and Chad almost failed to keep it closed. “Let me out!” he hollered.
Chad looked to Bart who was now on his knees before the door and looked to be sliding something between the door jamb and the door about a third of the way up from the ground.
Bang!
Again Rupert hit the door and the force of the blow knocked out whatever Bart had been sliding into place. Picking it up off the ground, he again worked to get it into place.
“Help!” yelled Rupert. “I’m being attacked!”
Then all of a sudden, Bart stood up. In the moonlight Chad could see he was holding a string that was attached to whatever it was he placed within the crack between the door and the door jamb.
“Come on,” Bart whispered as he began moving away from the jakes.
Bang!
As they hurried to the side of the courtyard that was deep in shadows, Rupert again hit the door in an attempt to get out. And to Chad’s amazement, the door held.
Bart brought them to a stop as soon as the string he held had reached its end. They stood there in the darkness as Rupert continued hollering for help and trying to break his way out. Fortunately the music within the dining area of the inn was loud enough to drown out his cries.
They waited for at least five minutes before another person left the inn on their way to the jakes. When Bart saw the man leaving the inn, he pulled the string. The wedge he had keeping the door to the jakes’ closed came free and the door swung open.
Chad about laughed when Rupert came stumbling out and crashed down into the dirt before the jakes. The man who was leaving the inn rushed over to help him but Rupert knocked away his hand and got to his feet. What he said to the man couldn’t be heard, but they saw the way he stalked back to the inn.
The following morning when Chad was at the mill working the giant grinding stones that turned grain into flour, his younger brother Eryl came running in all excited. “Did you hear?” he asked his brother.
“Hear what?” replied Chad.
“Last night at the Sterling Sheep…” his brother began but was forced to stop and catch his breath. Obviously he felt that what he had to say was so good that he ran the whole way to tell him. By this time their father had moved closer to hear.
“The magistrate and his son Rupert were dining with Freya and her father,” he continued. “Apparently Rupert had gone out back and dallied with some girl.” He turned to his father. “And with his betrothed there waiting for his return.” His eyes gleamed, every kid in Quillim hated Rupert and any story that showed him in a bad light was like gold.
“He claimed someone locked him in the jakes,” Eryl said in a tone that said he didn’t believe it. “But when he returned to the inn, there was rouge on his neck that people say looked just like a woman kissed him.” He laughed. “As it turned out, Freya wasn’t wearing any that night.”
Their father smiled as he too didn’t care much for Rupert. He did feel sorry for Freya though, it must have been a humiliation.
“Rupert is still saying he didn’t do anything and is sticking to his story,” Eryl explained. “But really papa, who is going to believe such a story?”
Chad grinned to himself as the grinding wheel continued to turn grain into flour. Who indeed? Bart had explained to him last night after they left the vicinity of the Sterling Sheep how he had put rouge on his hand in the shape of a girl’s lips. So that when he grabbed Rupert by the neck and threw him in the jakes, it would come off and leave the tell-tale mark.
“Are they still betrothed?” asked Chad.
“I hadn’t heard,” his brother replied. “But her father took it hard.”
“I can imagine,” their father said. Then to Eryl he added, “Don’t you have chores at home you should be doing?”
“Yes papa,” he replied and turned to head out the door.
“Another hour or two and the flour will be ready,” Chad’s father said before he too left.
Chad nodded in reply. The rest of the afternoon was spent in grinding flour. How he hated doing this. Last night when he and Bart were, as Bart said ‘making Rupert’s life a merry hell’, he had felt more alive than ever before. But all in all, he’d rather be doing this than be in Rupert’s shoes right about now.
Jaikus and Reneeke Join the Guild preview
A Little Bit of History…
Rumor has it that the great city of Reakla had its beginnings nearly a millennium ago. Back then, it didn’t even have a name. In fact, the only thing that could be said for what would one day be the preeminent city of the realm, was that very few people knew of, or cared about, the place.
A solid league from the road now called Adventurer’s Way ran the main trade route linking the production centers of the east with the populations of the west. This collection of huts housed less than a score who barely scraped out a living. Situated as this gathering of the destitute, poor, and unwanted was, at the northern fringe of Keot’s Swamp, a swamp whose reputation for being infested with creatures of great evil and ferocity, they saw very few strangers willing to join their ranks.
The world ignored them, didn’t care about them, and those that did manage to find their w
ay there more often than not continued on their way without so much as a how-do-you-do; which for the most part, the residents of this backwater cesspool in the middle of nowhere preferred. That was, until the day when the great warrior Reakla decided to retire.
His deeds were legendary. Why, even to this day, bards still regale their audiences with his exploits. One of his most famous adventures, the one people have requested for centuries, was how he slew the Frost Drake Theriocula and rescued the Lady Eay from the Sorcerer Vultun. A tale of great daring-do and romance that makes men thump the table in applause, and women weep at the tragic ending. And this was but one of a dozen such tales that still survive from his day.
In the winter of his years, when Reakla realized his strength was beginning to wane, reflexes growing slower, and gray starting to sprout, he knew it was time to hang up his double-headed battleaxe and retire. For only a fool continued to adventure when youth has fled.
There have been many theories as to why a warrior of great renown would settle in such a place. One suggested it was because he wanted the quiet solace he never had in his youth. Another put forth that he had fallen in love with a woman who lived there. But whatever the reason, this great warrior came to live among the residents at the edge of Keot’s Swamp.
As time went on, word spread of his whereabouts and fellow adventurers whom he had known would come to share a pint of ale, and a tale or two of past exploits. Eventually, Reakla’s shack was enlarged and grew into a tavern, then an inn.
A few of Reakla’s cronies retired there as well, desiring to continue being in the same company as the great warrior. A few brought families with them, others slaves, and this collection of ramshackle dwellings began to turn into a bona fide village. The place began to be called Reakla’s Place, Reakla’s Inn, and others that have now been lost to the past. It was a century or more after Reakla’s death that the elders gathered and stated that forevermore, their village would be called Reakla. They were proud their home would bear the name of the great warrior.
Year after year, it seemed more and more adventurers gravitated to Reakla. The camaraderie of fellow warriors, the sharing of mutual histories, drew men and women alike from all over. It seemed that whenever an adventurer grew too old, or too infirm to continue, they would stake a claim, build a house, and hang out at Reakla’s Inn.
The earliest records indicate that the first real construction on what is now known as the Adventurer’s Guild didn’t begin until the third century after Reakla’s death. By this time, his original inn had undergone many additions to accommodate the influx of people. Rooms were added, a courtyard built, and areas began to be designated for the main classes of the day; fighters, thieves, and magic users.
Magic users didn’t start coming until the great magic user Meyk built his tower not far from Reakla’s Inn. Brother to a fighter by the name of Breyki, whom you may recall from such sagas as “Breyki and the Troll’s Head” and “Breyki Atop the Goblin’s Mound,” Meyk settled in Reakla when his brother lost a leg to an overzealous Giant of the Clan Dirtclout. Ordinarily, a simple healing spell would have taken care of his leg, but the loss had occurred far from such aid, and by the time he reached civilization, the stump had healed to such an extent that the healers were unable to affect a restorative cure.
After Meyk built his tower, he began accumulating a great collection of books that to this day can be found at the Great Library within the Adventurer’s Guild. Scholars, and up-and-coming magic users, came from all over to research spells. For one who walked the Arcane Path, Meyk was unusually friendly and helpful.
Now, the catalyst for the initial construction of the Adventurer’s Guild that we know today didn’t come from a desire to create such a complex, but rather due to a massive migration of Trolls from out of the Swamp. Overrunning the town in a spree of killing and destruction that resulted in more than a third of the buildings being either outright destroyed, or burnt to the ground, it took every able-bodied man and a few women to throw the horde back. Unfortunately, Reakla’s Inn which had stood for five hundred years, fell during the onslaught. Little more than charred beams and shattered stone remained, some of which can be viewed in the Gallery of Fallen Heroes, a room within the Guild dedicated to those members who personified courage, resourcefulness, and success.
Plans were drawn up in the months following the end of what came to be called The Troll Invasion. At first, the new building was going to follow the same lines as the previous one, only on a slightly larger scale. But the idea was proposed, by whom the histories fail to mention, to make the new construction into a centralized place where adventurers could come and find more than just a room, a good meal, and stories of past exploits.
It became a place where heroes past their prime could still find value in their lives by teaching the younger, newer crop of adventurers. Other crafts came as well; fletchers and master crafters of bows, blacksmiths, and more whose services were in demand. Very soon this new place was dubbed The Adventurer’s Guild and the name has remained to this very day.
Magic Users were always part of the Guild, ever since the time of Meyk. The joining of brain and brawn on adventures grew quite common. Thieves didn’t come along until later. It has been rumored that thieves were always there anyway, hiding in the shadows, but it wasn’t until about a century ago that they were officially incorporated as part of the Guild. The reasoning behind such a move depends on whom you ask. On the one hand, thieves play an important part in any adventure; disarming traps, picking locks, etc, so it only made sense to have them as part of the Guild. The other side of the coin claimed that the Thieves connived their way into the Guild in order to be in on the “know” about the Guild members’ activities so they could beat them to the prize.
By and large, the three classes coexist together fairly harmoniously. Each class was almost always represented in Guild Parties, a Party being a group of adventurers that have banded together to hire out collectively. A few Parties are formed entirely of fighters or thieves, rarely do magic users band together as they tend to prefer having muscle-bound toughs taking the hard knocks while they fire off spells from a respectably safe distance.
In the centuries since the village of Reakla first took the name of the renowned hero, it has grown by leaps and bounds. The league of open space between the original collection of huts situated at the northern edge of Keot’s Swamp and the road now called Adventurer’s Way, has been completely filled in by a town to rival any in the realm. Two other trade routes now find their way to Reakla. One is the North Road which leads to the Lands of the Kittikin, a place most civilized people would just as soon keep as far away from as possible. Brigand’s Way is the other, so named due to the frequent raids on caravans and travelers foolish enough to attempt to pass without sufficient escort.
Adventurer wannabes come from all over in the hopes of joining the Guild, the prestige and glory which went with membership was something every lad desired. Unfortunately, only a very few ever succeeded in gaining the honor of being added to the Adventurer’s Roll of Heroes. An auspicious sounding title, the Roll was merely a list of currently active members, and some who were past their prime yet still called the Guild their home away from home.
Before anyone is allowed to join, they must be able to lay claim to the successful completion of an Adventure. Of course, such an Adventure cannot be any old adventure, but one which satisfies three qualifications.
The first qualification is that there must have been some element of risk to life and limb. Finding a lost cat that strayed too far from home would hardly count toward Guild Membership. Unless, of course, the cat in question weighed five hundred pounds, had a mean disposition, and liked nothing better than to chew a man’s head off. Then perhaps it would qualify as a bona fide Adventure.
The second qualification is for the Adventure to be successfully concluded. If the whole point of the quest was to retrieve a specific item, that item had better be in hand when all was said and done.
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Lastly, and perhaps most important of all, a reward of some kind had to have been given. After all, what good was an Adventure if you didn’t get paid for your troubles? A man’s got to eat.
Very few wannabes are able to satisfy the requirements since most have no experience or training for such a life. The bones of many a lad can be found in out of the way places where their misguided hopes to complete an Adventure had led to an untimely end.
There are those who have friends or relatives in the Guild and merely tag along on an Adventure with a seasoned Party to satisfy the requirements. For others without such connections within the Guild, membership can be as elusive as a five-legged dog. Their recourses were few indeed, and all held a high rate of mortality.
But for those who make it, the rewards are great: fame, gold, and the chance to become a power in the realm. All are waiting for the one strong enough, smart enough, and especially lucky enough to survive.
—1—
It was a day like any other in the great city of Reakla. The hustle and bustle of everyday life continuing as it had for many a year, though in this city, what constituted everyday life could at times seem extraordinary if it were to be encountered anywhere else. But in Reakla, the sight of three trolls being led through the streets by a party of adventurers was hardly worth a second look.
Ye’s Band of Thugs, a party of five that had been adventuring together for the better part of a decade, were herding six of the great beasts toward the Adventurer’s Guild. Trolls were in demand at the Guild, being as they were very hardy and regenerated well. They gave the up and coming newbies something to practice on. Each of the three Classes that called the Guild their home had a courtyard in which they could hone and fine tune their skills between adventures. Within the courtyard, fighters fought, mages worked on spells, and thieves, well, they did what thieves always do and were not about to explain themselves to others. If you’re a thief, you know what goes on. If not, it’s best not to pry.
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