FIRST INTERLUDE – LOST

Malinor was an ordinary man. He frequented the bars of Crucifire Plains. The city was so big he could live his entire life going from one tavern to another. This is exactly how he liked it. He was cast out of his home through no fault of his own. He need not go back. He didn’t want to go back, not one bit, and that was the truth. Every day he spent getting drunk and thinking about how much he didn’t want to go home. One day he was drinking at a bar in the western side of the city, closer to the desert. They put weird spices in their ales, the lizard kingdom folk. They appreciated a curried drink. Malinor did not. But he had no choice. He was running low on coin.

He was down to his last drink if he still wanted money for a room tonight. Malinor always had a staring match with his drink. He took it down before it could do anything nefarious. But alas, it was now empty and his last drink. He weighed out his options in his mind and only took about a second before spending his room money on another poorly spiced ale. In order for tonight to be a success he would need to spend all of his money and then forget he did so.

Malinor stared at his next drink boldly as it was being poured. The barman looked at Malinor and shook his head, not even sparing a word. He heard choking next to him and then spitting.

“Gods, I can’t stand the stuff. Why did they have to make it so sour? Patronalus’ sake you city folk really know how to ruin a good craft.” Said a Komodo Mazer.

Malinor looked over at him and pointed to his empty glass. The barman looked twice at the glass.

“I’ll take it if you don’t want it.”

“If you like the stuff, by all means.”

The mazer poured the beer into Malinor’s mug. It didn’t matter that there were remnants of spice in his mug that mixed into the beer, it still tasted great.

“I’ll never understand why you plainers put grapes in your ale.”

“It’s not grapes, you troglodyte. It’s hops that they put in it to give the bitter taste.”

“Bitter doesn’t belong in ale.”

“Neither does curry.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of other bars that serve beer more bland to our liking.”

Malinor finished the mazer’s beer and slammed his mug on the table. He turned to walk away, to walk out the front door, taking the hit, but then he stopped. He turned back around and punched the mazer right in the face. The mazer didn’t even fight back. Malinor pummeled him to the floor and did not stop punching until he was pulled off by the barman. Malinor was quickly shown the door to this particular establishment. He had once again overstayed his welcome. There were still a couple coins in his pocket, or maybe just one and he was seeing double. Malinor patted his chest, took a deep inhale, and steadied his path.

“Onto the next one.”

After about his fifth endeavor of the night, Malinor finally found a dark hole to crawl into. Yes, he spotted it out of the corner of his eye in the alleyway he was walking by, or was he walking down it? At a certain point his inebriated state took over and he let go. Nothing would stop him from crashing now. The only thing he really wanted, to fall asleep and never wake up, and therefore never have to remember his past.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

A swift fist punched his gut, launching him back into the air, rattling him back to his senses, or what little he had left. Malinor fell to the floor tearing the clothes on his back and smacking his head. He got himself to his feet but barely got himself into a ready stance before the second strike came down on him. He blocked the punch and immediately felt his legs get kicked out from underneath. Malinor tried to get to his feet, but again his legs got kicked out from underneath him. Malinor was exhausted and so drunk. He exhaled and lied there, able to override his survival instinct.

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

“Are you really so desperate to end your own life?”

“You have no idea.”

“That mazer you pummeled…he was here in the city to be recruited, not just some merchant or raider mission, he was going to go south to survey the great gate and if the opportunity presented itself, venture south.”

“A mission to the Southlands?”

“To put it bluntly…yes. You bested him. It would be in my employer’s best interest if I were to offer you the quest, instead of that forsaken mazer.”

“Who is your employer?”

“That information will be withheld from you until my employer deems fit. Does it really matter? We both know what this mission is…a death sentence. Either you come back with a story and fame waiting for you or die trying.”

Even in Malinor’s intoxicated state he was able to quickly do the math. It’s the best offer he will get for the foreseeable future. The choice was easy.

“I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful. Are you fitt to cross the Sandlands?”

“There is no corner of MagnaThora I cannot reach.”

“Your attitude is inspiring and perfect for your journey ahead. Might I suggest getting some rest tonight. We made arrangements at the Cooling Star Hotel for you where you will also find field provisions. Take it or leave it. It matters not to us. If you make it back from your journey and have something to report, you can find me at said hotel. Any questions?”

“Is there a reward?”

“A monetary reward is certain, I would also venture to guess my employer would offer you a personal congratulations. That is really as specific as I can be at the moment, but I expect you would be indulgently compensated for your feat.”

“Sounds better than getting kicked out of back alley bars.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Do you have a name?”

“Crooms.”

“Strange name for such a formal gentleman.”

“It is the moniker my employer bequeathed me.”

Malinor got up and brushed his pants off.

“You didn’t have to sucker punch me like that.”

“You needed a… compelling reason to stay awake.”

“If you would be so kind as to show me the way to the room, I would consider your services rendered for the night.”

“As you wish.”

“So, after all that…you don’t even know who I am?”

“Anonymity only works successfully when it is on both sides.”

Malinor didn’t necessarily believe Crooms, but it left him one step ahead of the game, because this was most certainly a game, and there is no way that this ominous employer hired Malinor without knowing his true heritage, and the explosive realization of his birthright.