I kinda wish I was an anthropologist instead of an insurance adjuster, then maybe I can decipher these nonsense signs. I look around at a well clearing, the same one I have seen multiple times the past half hour. In my hand is a canvas bag that I found in my arms as I was evicted from the castle. What does that say of me? Am I inattentive when I am being rushed, easily distracted by touch? Who knows. Right the bag. Inside is a glass jar of honey, a spare shirt that I put on and some bandages. I also placed the twenty coins that I was given into the same bag.
I again pick a different walkway and wander, there is always some traffic, people meandering about their business; mostly people collecting water. So far every route I have taken has somehow led me back to the same water-well clearing, there is no pattern to this city, and no relief. I stare at a sign it's foreign writing a blight on my mood. Not to mention the accompanying symbol. You would think a symbol would be obvious, a glass or a tankard for a tavern, an anvil for a smith ect.. But you would be wrong
In front of me is a symbol of a star; I take a breath and walk in. I am hit with an aromatic smell. All around me are plants and flowers. The back wall is covered in glass jars filled with various liquids and dust. Do you see what I mean! In what way is a star related to plants or medicine? Is it a pun, is there a well known herb that's the shape of a five pointed star? Or is it a myth like our symbols of medicine being a snake on a staff? I just don't know. After looking around, a plant catches my eye. It is a lovely white flower with almost heart-shaped petals, but what intrigues me is the luminescent red lines. Red lines radiate from the stem two per petal meeting at the tip. Distracted by my curiosity I reach out to touch it when I am interrupted by a sharp noise, seeing the owner giving me a baleful look I mumble an apology and leave.
That wasn't the first nor the last time that I wandered into some poor shop in my search for a tavern of some sort. I would assume lodging is closer to the outer gates then it is the castle, most likely cheaper as well. The big problem is that place Is a maze that filters me into the same damn public watering hole!. My stomach grones in protest at its treatment. Looking around I see several food stalls, a meat vendor with flies buzzing across his exposed wares. I stare at the flys who are rubbing their hands like their plan to poison the population was a success; that's a nope for me. A few stalls away there is a kindly looking woman selling bread, she is plump with a strong angular face, her tied back gray hair and laugh lines tell me she has experienced life and came out on top. I hover at a distance not close enough to get in the way but close enough to vaguely see how they are paying. It appears they pay with the yellow coin for individual loaves and they get eleven for the silver. I am not sure if one silver coin is worth eleven yellow's or if it is a baker's dozen situation.
I approach the stall, the old lady perks up and gives a genuine smile. I grab a handful of coins and try to pick out some of the smaller yellow coins. She says something in her sharp measured language, but I am unable to interpret. I point at a loaf of bread and at my coin; making sure to copy how I have seen the gesture being used; that is all fingers pointed as opposed to just one. She seems to understand but instead she points to my silver coin. This is why I hate people, they always try to take advantage. Here I am an illiterate foreigner lost in lands unknown and a seemingly kind old lady is trying to upcharge me by a factor of ten. I bury my grimace into a smile, I then forcefully slam the coin on her counter, grab the loaf of bread and walk away, ignoring her sharp sounds of protest. That's right I will force you to treat me the way I deserve, now to get away before she can draw too much attention.
After finishing my bread I let out a long groan followed by a deep breath. I wouldn't know a tavern or a hotel if I walked into it, what I need to find is some construction workers, or -- my musings are interrupted by a sharp TING in the distance. I grin, blacksmith's that's perfect I am sure no one is more in need for a good drink then a blacksmith. I follow the sounds of the hammer, then other sounds. It seems I am approaching a craftsman district as I hear a cacophony of tools. All around me there are workers, I see a line of blacksmiths shoulder by shoulder hammering away shaping metal. Glass blowers working in huge teams to make unique pieces, at one point a curved window at another a tiny circular bowl. A skilled carpenter and many muscled laborers bending a tree across an angled frame. And supervising above them all is a diminutive man in a raised dais. Suddenly a forge goes out of control and the air is blanketed in sparks.
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The man raises a staff and points at the sparks, with a flourish dark purple light pours out and it's as if time itself is paused. The sparks hang in the air, like an imitation of the night sky, then movement. Randomly sparks shoot to the center, colliding and bouncing one after another until there is a spherical chunk of slag, then the wizard's light takes on a second color, a deep white-blue as the slag freezes and drops.
It seems the laborers took that display as a sign as the telltale indication of work wrapping up starts, the old masters carefully putting away tools, while the young apprentices sweep and clean remnant sawdust and metal scraps.I hover looking for groups of people if my assumptions are correct individuals are going home but groups may go out. I see a healthy mixture of laborers walking and decide to follow.
I now know why I have been getting lost to leave this district, I have to change elevations. As I follow the worker they seem to traverse stairs in an ascending and descending pattern all the while conversing as if it's second nature. After over half an hour I see the outer walls to my side of me and the huge street in front. I am an unparalleled genius. I knew that the taverns would be by the gates.
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This man is the biggest idiot I have ever seen, to think the captain asked me to follow whoever leaves the castle. Our informants told us that a man of special interest was being treated in the castle, 'special interest,' my taint! Those informants should have their tongue ripped out and paraded by all the footpads as a warning to wasting my divine forsaken time!
How? Just tell me how he mispayed a single gold for a loaf of bread? The poor baker's wife looked so distraught for him. But we do know he has money now and not a small amount.
He ended up wandering into a tavern. Thank the divines I need to numb my mind to deal with this brainsick man. He peers back and forth seemingly eyeing the patrons and sits with his back to the door. Another mark against the informant. I take a table in the corner with a view of all the exits and fellow patrons. I view the man as he tries to order food, making wild and nonsensical gestures, he also seems to be pointing up as well as at other diners' food. He appears to want a room and some food. I grin as long as I can see the room key enter his hand I will be able to leave this infuriating man and report my findings. I swear I will knife him in the streets if I see him again, would serve him right for wasting my time.
After a frustrating thirty minutes of wild hand gestures he finally gets his point across to the poor barmaid, and again confuses gold coins for copper. I leave the tavern before I can become even more exasperated and start running the thieves highway. I feel free here no other person is able to keep up or interfere. I deftly run, vault, slide, and shimmy until I see a familiar chimney. I take my token and throw it down. After a slight delay the roof tiles shift as I enter the safehouse.
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"To conclude my report I believe him to be an unwitted buffoon and recommend a summary execution on our informants." I state finishing my hour long report.
I stare at my boss, his relaxed posture and attitude irritating me by his mere presents, he sits on a stone throne with his legs hanging off its side. His arms lazily gestures at random intervals, his eyes not focused on me or my report, but instead on the ceiling. To think this was once a man so feared on the streets they called him ' The Hoarder ' but now he goes by Fleece.
"Now now, don't be too hasty Sonja, with your observations I have confirmed what our informants have reported as fact."
"How so?" I spit with indignation.
The boss replied with lazy drawl"He killed a Jackacorn, specifically the one reserved for our young barron to be."
"And?" I say with my jaw locked, "The Pit's! If that's all it takes to get some appreciation from my boss then I will start to go hunting."
As I vomit my sarcastic venom Fleece takes out a small item and plays with it in between his fingers.
"Oh you can try, but you will have to find and kill an aberrant." Fleece replies ending with a lazy smile displaying a horn. No the Jackicorns second horn.
To kill most spell capable creatures one would rely on a tried and true tactic. This would involve gradually waising its magic on feints or distractions, as an average caster can perform two to three 'works' in a short span. A dual horn would increase both the creature's intelligence and would make the creature immune to this tactic as the creature would absorb 'Primal Essence' from the air and use it to directly cast.
I slowly try to leave Fleece's audience, knowing what he will ask of me now.
"I think I will recruit this kid." Fleece States in an infuriating manner "If it was skill I would love to have him on the team. And if it is luck, well divines know when we'll need some of that."