It was a lovely afternoon in the village of Thorns Creek as Timothy strode down the street. The autumn sun pleasantly warmed his worn traveler’s cloak while the small pebbles of graveled road crunched underneath his black leather boots. All in all, the small village, counting no more than a dozen homes, seemed calm with only a few children milling about. Timothy knew most of the adults would be out in the grain to the south. He had seen them as he approached the village.

Slowly walking through the village, he checked for any sign of an inn or tavern-like establishment. After all, according to his missive, there should be an inn around somewhere. “To the Iron Bull” was the supposed name of the place where he’d meet his fellow adventurers. It would be the first time since the start of his adventuring days that he’d work together in a group. It would also be the first time since starting out that he’d be part of something bigger. Something truly meaningful. Something more important than catching chickens, saving cats and babysitting children while they played in the woods. No, this time it would be something meaningful. A real mission, with a real group, gathered by an official missive by their employer, the one and only Adventurers Guild. And also, a task with real pay… Thinking about the many holes in his old, worn-down linen clothes only hidden by his dark-brown cloak, Timothy could only shake his head in a rueful smile.

And there it was: the Iron Bull Inn. A crooked, wooden sign of a bull’s head hang above the door of a sturdy looking establishment. Straightening his back and dusting off his clothes the young adventurer opened the worn-down door. The silent chatter of the sparse patrons filled a dim dining area, though conversations were slowly dying down as he stood on the threshold. It was a small place, seven tables spread haphazardly throughout, with two being occupied. A small bar lined the back wall with no barkeep insight.

“Well, are you coming in or not? Don’t just stand around, boy, we won’t bite”, an amiable voice called jokingly across the room. There in the corner of the room, at one of the tables, sat a group of three, looking over at Timothy. The priestly-looking, middle-aged man waved at Timothy, a friendly smile on his face.

Giving the man a nod, the young adventurer moved towards the table, using the few seconds as he crossed the room to inspect who he could only assume were his fellow adventurers. An older man, garbed in a priestly robe, an amulet hanging in front of his chest. Judging by the interwoven laurels, circled by jade, most likely a priest of Etahi. To his left sat another man, burly with incredibly wide shoulders and a face to match, his iron gloves hinting at the armor beneath his traveler’s cloth. Last but not least, there was the lone woman in the room, with golden flowing hair and loose clothes obscuring most of her figure.

“Greetings friends”, Timothy came to a stop in front of the table with a light bow, right hand on his heart as was customary, “am I right to assume you’d be the fellow adventurers on a mission to help the townsfolk of this village?”

The three patrons looked at each other before rising from their seats and returning his bow. “That we are - and well met. Please, sit, no need to be so overly official”, the priest gestured to the two remaining open chairs at the table.

“This lovely woman to my left is Ameldia Harrowcree, the ranger of our group, the grim looking man to my right, Cork Hammer, our first man in the fray.”, the priest started introducing, gesturing left and right before pointing at himself, “And I’m Markus Veldenhim, priest of Etahi, and will be the doctor and scholar of Mystical Arts in our group.”

“So, we have the core roles filled, fighter, archer, healer and even mystical.”, Timothy nodded thoughtfully. “I believe I am meant to fill the investigative role. My talents lie in moving silently as well as trap-making and manual dexterity…”, looking at the expectant faces of the group, Timothy frowned before realizing the obvious, “Oh and I am called Timothy. No family name, just Timothy, or Timo for short.”

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“Told you, rogues are always late”, Cork chuckled, his deep voice making it sound more like a threatening growl. “Probably snuck around town first and grabbed himself some loose coins and trinkets, while we met up and did some real, honest work.”

For a moment Timothy sat there, blankly staring at the man. Seconds passed as the group looked between the two, the sudden tension being almost palpable. A deep frown marred priest Markus’ face, before he broke the silence at the table:

“Now, let’s not make assump-”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Sitting there and accusing me of being some disgusting criminal stealing from decent farmer folk?”, Timothy started rising back out of his seat, his shoulders shaking and fist clenched tight, as he looked at the startled faces at the table. Well, mostly startled. Cork was mostly just watching him, keeping an infuriating, condescending smirk throughout. “If this is how you greet a fellow adventurer, I want no part in this group. Best we go separate ways right away. A good day!”, he half-shouted and turned on his heels, almost stumbling over the chair. A few quick steps carried him out through the door through which he’d entered the inn minutes prior. Teeth clenched and still shaking in barely controlled fury, Timothy stood in the afternoon sun. How dare this man compare him to some vile rogue. He had nothing in common with these murdering, immoral bastards that skulked around the night and killed good, innocent men and women for some coin. Not once since that fateful night had he used his talents in anything less than law-abiding, nor would he ever again. This he had sworn, years prior, as he stood over the graves of his dead family, justice unserved. And now some brute ran along and compared him to these scums? No, he might not have chosen his words carefully, but he would not, could not, work with someone like that.

One deep breath. A long exhale, letting out his anger. Swallowing hard, Timothy pushed the lingering rage aside and refocused. If he had no group to rely on, he’d do as he had always done. First step, gather any and all information. Meaning the next stop would be the surrounding fields. With most of the farming community being out and about, it would be easiest to learn more about what troubled these fair people of Thorns Creek.

And so, Timothy moved away from the inn, the gathering of adventurers in the inn going unheeded by the young adventurer. If his snap judgement would bring him only fortune or lead into certain doom was yet to be seen.

***

“See, completely unreliable!”, scoffed Cork as the shady, run-down rogue left through the front door. “Better off without him, would have probably stabbed us in the back the moment he’d get away with it.” Noticing the disapproving glare by the priest Markus, he shrugged: “What? Not like any of you spoke up against it. You all saw how he was dressed, right? Probably came straight out of the gutter as a first timer anyway. We don’t need that kind of liability when dealing with some dire beast or bandits.”

“He didn’t sound completely untrustworthy though… however, I agree with Cork to some degree. It’s not a big loss. And with what the Innkeeper told us; we’ll have to scout mostly the forest. His talents wouldn’t have mattered much.”, Ameldia nodded to Cork, her golden hair shifting slightly to reveal pointed ears. Just as Markus tried to interject, she lifted her hand, slender index finger outstretched, “I know Etahi preaches harmony and thoughtfulness in mind and body, Markus, but we must be practical. Cork could have been less hostile, but in the end the result will remain the same. It is for the better.”

“Very well”, Markus sighed in resignation, “but I expect better next time, Cork. I will not stand for insults to strangers, especially not unprovoked. The boy was nothing but cordial to us. You will show some human decency moving forward.”

“Sure, unless it’s some criminal scum trying to kill or rob me.”, Cork nodded. “Let’s gear up and move out before sundown. We still have a few hours of daylight, maybe Ameldia can find some tracks of the girl or something. What was her name again?”, Cork stood with a grunt, muffled clinks sounding out from beneath his traveler’s clothes.

The sound of chairs scraping along the floor could be heard as Ameldia and Markus followed suit.

“Chloe. Or probably was. There is little hope for a small child that got lost in the woods for more than two days.”

“Meet at the door in an hour?”

Sounds of agreement could be heard from Markus Veldenhim and Cork Hammer, before the three moved separate ways through the inn. Markus went to his room, while Cork headed to the bar and Ameldia for the front door. Mayhap she’d quickly find some traces of the girl.

End of chapter.