I walked into the town, cherry blossoms in my wake. The petals beautifully fall on the path as I walk through the grove. I smile melancholily, remembering those who had passed. My feet crunched onto the rocks, sand and dirt.
As I walk into the town and look around to find the adventurers guild I have since forever forgotten where it is, I see the tavern on my right. I was planning to stop by it later, but as I’m looking at it, one of the guests shouts at me. “Heyyyyy, ou therrreee.” His words are slurred by the amount of alcohol he’s induced. “Commmee join us fo ah drin.” I roll my eyes, the drunkards probably aren’t even five drinks in and they’re wobbling dangerously on their chairs on the veranda. I pity their poor selves when they become sober again and realise they’ve fallen over the veranda’s railing. Many a drunkard falling victim to it leads me to not having faith in them being able to stay in their chairs.
This is a town of dwarves, famously known for its cherry blossom ale. Of course, like many other dwarven products, they’re well built and suited for their smaller, strong residents. Otherwise known as liking their drinks and food strong. This means that they like a lot of spice in their produces, and in any alcoholic beverage, you can be guaranteed that the beverage will have double to triple the human amount of alcohol. Though it may sound bad, it actually makes their food just all the better. With a strong taste suited for its harsh winters and tough residents, its truly a taste of dwarven heritage wherever you have it.
This kingdom, after all, is Mara-Ni, the kingdom of the Northern Valley. A very laid back and relaxed kingdom- if you don’t fight it that is- with it mostly being farmers and brewers. The weather is immaculate for farming hardy crops used in most dwarven foods, and their products some of the best around, making them famous for their ale. Of course, even their king is laid back, as he too doesn’t care for formalities, and just normally acts like a normal person, wandering the streets of the capital and truly living up to the dwarven laid back approach to life.
Back to me, I was walking towards the nearby adventurers guild, finally locating it as it looks normal compared to the rest of the town. I open the door quietly and slip into the building, many teams of dwarves and humans are chatting around tables set out, their weapons sheathed on their backs or hips, with most dwarves having axes and humans a mix of all sorts of weapons. I shake myself, remembering what I’m here for.
I walk up to the front desk, and one of the attendants goes to me. “Hello, and welcome to the adventurers guild, how may i be of assistance to you today?” A standard speech they memorise. I hand over my herbs, and although it was a simple job, it was just fun to relax and not be constantly diving into dungeons and risking my life defeating monsters for a change. The attendant takes my herbs, and looks at me. “Quest number?” She asks. Quest numbers are just the number that was written on the page you idk on the notice board so the attendants don’ have to search for ages just to pay you your owed amount. “36.” I say, and the attendant nods, turning away from me to find that numbered quest and pay me. After a few moments she returns with scales, weighing my herbs before counting out some money, and handing me four copper. “Hope you come again.” She says, and i nod as i take my coin. “Thank you.” I say, and head out.
I then head back to the tavern, and go inside to the bar. A couple cheers and whispers come from one of the tables And as I look over, I can see Jargob, Dargen and Martov. I chuckle, going to one of the tables, and grabbing an ale, cherry blossom, of course.
A warning shriek pierces the air, and immediately I’m on high alert, looking around to see the danger. The sound is from Maggie, one of the more elderly residents, who had just noticed some rats right in front of her. She really needed to get her vision checked, yet no one dared say it, lest their tongue get pulled from their mouth. One of the sentries on tower duty, having heard her shriek, rang the civilians bell. It’s a bell, that if rung once, means there are monsters attacking, although seemingly not too dangerous, and hunters are on route. However if rung in a panic, that means evacuate immediately.
“C’mon.” Says Jargob, a buff man with green skin and tusks. “Join us, Taegan, it's time for a hunt.” Although in a normally dwarven town, Jargob was an orc who had moved there when his village got overrun by monsters a couple years back in a monster surge. He absolutely dwarfed the short residents (pun intended). Thankfully for him and the dwarves- as they hated being reminded of their short height- he spends most of his time on his farm as a humble farmer, only going out for times like these when he can drink with some of the more accepting dwarves or when he can fight some monsters. Grinning from ear to ear, I followed him eagerly.
Heading out to the outskirts of town, visible from the tavern as it was also at the edge of town, meaning it was also a great place for adventurers to hang out, as monsters came occasionally and you got to fight them out of the forest where you could attract more than you bargained for. This also meant it was a great place for beginner adventurers to practice fighting.
I step up to the monsters, eager to fight them, as for the last few days I have been doing nothing but herb collection. Jargob has his trusty giant club, bigger than most of the dwarves in the town. Many dwarves including Dargen and Martov bring out their axes, and are ready to clobber some opponents. My hand slips to where my bottle of sand is held on my waist, and I pop it open, the cork put in my pocket. I look over the monsters, the ugly things that they are. They’re rat-like, their disgusting looking faces twisted and warped into deplorable faces. I would pity any who could not kill them to see. They have short arms and legs that are on the ground. They’re bigger than normal rats, maybe 70cm tall and with ragged grey fur. The sand flowing out of my bottle is reddish, a trait from my homeland of Tingari, a place with lots of normal sand, but the place i grew up in had an oasis with special sand, the sort in my bottle thought to provide extreme luck to the wielder of it, me naturally in control of it and it’s wielder as i use it with practiced ease.
I use my magic to make the sand into tiny yet deadly daggers, grouping them to be just big enough, and then shooting them at the rats eyes. I made them big enough to fit in the rats eyes, yet not hit the skull as that would pause the momentum, and their shocked, pained expressions crumpled as they fell to the ground dead. Jargob and Dargen, a dwarf adventurer that spends more time in the tavern drinking ale and doing bar brawls than actually fighting Monsters. But is somehow a decent fighter anyways, using his axe to take down a couple monsters. Jargob smashing many others that Dargen didn’t get to a pulp with his club.
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A couple other dwarves defeated some monsters as well, and I remember their faces, as I can guarantee you that Martov will make me the one to hand out the money from the cores to the participants. However, it soon calmed down and all the monsters were on the floor dead.
In total there were about twenty rat monsters that had emerged, them all lying on the ground either in pulpy blobs or in bloody corpses with their heads smashed in. Well, except for mine which look like the rats are just sleeping except for the prominent no eyeballs. “It sems to meh like the monsters just keep increasin’. I guess ther’s a dugin (Dungeon, although he pronounces it dud-gin.) nearby.” Says Martov as he squats in front of one of the rats, cutting its chest open with hi trusty dagger and rummaging around in its chest to find its monster core. He chucks it, and the rest he had collected in a bag, then throws it to me. “Take it to thee avnch’er (adventurer pronounced ah-v-en-ch-er.) guild thingy.” He waves his hand as his tick dwarven accent makes him harder to understand for those who don’t know him well behind a long white beard. “Alright.” I say. I take the cores to the guild, which exchanges them for fourty coppper. I went back to the tavern, where all the othe fighters were, and handed them out evenly. Eight people actually participated in the fighting, including me Jargob, Dargen and Martov, so we got five copper each.
As I was handing out everyone’s rewards, one of the drunken soldiers walks up to me. The only way i could tell this was his soldier uniform, otherwise I would’ve thought he was just another civilian. “Be’ing stingy boy.” He drawled out in a drunken tone, looking at y drink, which was cherry juice as i had already had some ale before. “Well, unlike your drunken ass, i want to preferably be coherent and not with a throbbing hangover tomorrow.” I sat down on one of the bar stools, staring at the drunk, daring him to try me. He, surprisingly didn’t, and went back to his table, however as he was heading there, he spotted people on another table, and walked up to them. It was a table of civilians, probably here just to experience the great food this bar has to offer, and maybe for another reason. Whatever they were here for, the drunk was annoying them, but i ignored him for now. I hadn’t put the cork back on my bottle, and I didn’t plan to right now either.
He was getting a bit too drunk as he took large swigs from his tankard. Someone did try to stop him, but he was stronger than them. Starting to yell and fuss about as the civilians nervously sat there. Flicking a little of my sand onto my fingernail, i condensed it and sent it flying at the drunkard, cutting his hairy arm lightly before the sand returned to me. “Annoy them more and it’ll be more than a light cut.” I warn, before taking a sip of my juice. The bar falls dead silent in anticipation for a fight, and I think I can hear some of the younger dwarves and soldiers whispering ‘fight, fight’ in the corner. The man stares at me, the person who had tried to stop the drunk stopping dead in their tracks.
The drunk easily gets out of the person's weak grip, and starts to walk over to me, in a way he thinks is menacing, but really just pathetic as he can barely walk straight. “You dare try to act tough, kid.” He says, as his body just barely reaches the bar. He had to fall and whack into the bar before he got there, not doing great for his menacing image. He throws his hands in the air. “You’re drinking juice.” He raises his voice as he says this. “So why don’t you take your juice and pretend to be adventurer self to bed and take a nap.” He sneers, as he grabs my juice and smashes it on the ground. To his and the patrons surprise, the glass, now smashed into pieces floated from where it had crashed on the floor and floated to be behind me. “That was a stupid move, soldier, after all, you just gave your enemy a sharper weapon. I suppose I should thank you for that.” I say, as I look at him. “You should never underestimate a person, and never provoke an unknown enemy. Isn’t that what they teach you these days?” I say the last bit in an angry tone. The drunk, surprised, had taken a step back, only to slip and fall in his drunken state and whack his head on the floorboards, ending up in him unconscious.
I turn to the bartender. It’s El, who is mildly shocked, but not as much as the civilians, and certainly not the drunk. “I apologise, El, for the inconvenience. I hope you can understand.” I bow, and let the glass just float so no one steps on it as I mould it together again. The bartender smiles kindly with a hint of surprise. “Oh no, that’s fine. I’ll just grab a cloth and wipe it up. Thank you for not causing too much of a scene Taegan.” She then heads off to find a cloth in order to get the juice off the ground. A woman comes up to me, the one that was trying and failing to stop the drunk when he was annoying the civilians. “I’m so sorry for Gerdolfs behaviour.” She starts. “He’s usually a great man, but an absolutely terrible drunk. I hope you don’t take the events of today personally.” She starts to help the drunk man to his feet, putting an arm around her shoulder as she tries to lift the big oaf. “No, I understand.” I wave it off as I go to sit with the rest of the adventurers, knowing that being with the adventurers, but especially Jargob will deter any drunks. Especially since he still has his weapon out from fighting the rats.
Jargob laughed and patted my back heavily as I returned. “Did you see his face! It was hilarious!” The others laughed with him. “He was so shoocked. (Pronounced sh-oo-ck-ed)” Says Dargen . “Hunestlie, (honestly, pronounced h-u-n-est-lie.) he’s stooopid if he thinks he can take on the Devil of the Sands.” I smirk at my old nickname. “He was quite stupid.” I admit, and we all laugh and drink the night away, me still having cherry juice in the glass I remoulded back into its original shape.
In the morning, I pack my bags. Despite staying in this town for two year, i wanted to move on to the next place, especially since the monster surge was coming up. Sure, it was a couple weeks away, but leaving now meant there would be less last minute traveler's, and the monsters on the road won't be that bad. You see, you might think that leaving afterwards would be a better idea, but that is a terrible idea, since the monsters will be roaming around aimlessly after the surge and more likely to attack due to boredom or residual effects from the surge. I walked to Jargob’s farm first, since he was furthest from my planned path. I go over to him working in the fields. “Hey, Jargob.” I say, shouting out to him, and he looks up curiously. “Yeah?” He asks, and, upon seeing the pack on my back, he knows what I’m planning, having discussed it with me. “After the attack of the rats, i think the surge is coming early this year. I’ll be leaving earlier than planned as well, since i don't want to be overrun by monsters on my trip.” Jargob walks over, and despite being a rarely affectionate person, he hugs me. “Okay.” He says, and i can tell there’s a hint of sadness in his tone. “I’ll come visit soon, yeah?” I say, and he nods.
“Thank you, friend.” He mutters, and I smile softly, knowing what he’s talking about. “No problem. May the winds see you fit.” He grins. I taught him this traveler’s goodbye. “And let the paths of air guide you on your travels.”
When I was finished with him, and he returned to plowing the field, I headed over to the old dwarves house. “Martov.” I call out, the old dwarve walking out. “Wha?” He grumbles, but his eyes widen as he sees the pack on my pack. “Ya leavin’?” I nod. “Yep, the rats from the dungeon pushed my plans a bit.” He grumbles something unintelligible and then says. “Well, may the winds see you fit.” I smirk, knowing that's the old man's way of saying ‘I’ll miss you.’ “And let the paths of air guide you on your travels.” I walk out of there knowing the old mans going to go to the tavern and drown himself in alcohol, but otherwise be fine. He was just a sentimental man like that, even if I introduced myself as a traveler.
When I was finally finished waving goodbye, I walked to the Battle Grove. A memorial for those who had lost their lives last year against a monster horde that attacked the town suddenly with no warning, killing many. I kneel before the graves, paying my respects as i leave a sash of sand on the graves, signifying my respect and remembrance as I stand up and start to leave. A smile upon my face, I finally walk out of the grove, confident to leave the dead behind and onto the gravel road heading to the next town.