United States of America, Sunview University, October 5th
Cam looked around the table with half a feeling of disbelief. He hadn’t expected to make it this far, but these four girls he had not met until recently had all agreed to play his Dungeons and Monsters campaign he had created. All four of them had paper character sheets printed out on the table in front of them, and he had copious amounts of notes hidden safely behind the Game Master’s screen.
The four looked at him expectantly. Cam shook his head, clearing himself out of his reverie. Best not to keep them waiting. He cleared his throat once, then again. He took one final glance at his notes and confirmed once again that they were in order. Nervously, he rolled his twenty-sided die. It came up a 14.
He shouldn’t keep them waiting. With a deep breath, he began the game’s narration. “You all meet in a tavern…”
Kingdom of Pirmais, Harvest Moon 5th
Four adventurers met in a tavern.
It wasn’t a particularly nice place to gather. The customers were scarred and dower, the food was bad, the drink too strong, and the lighting dim. Depressed waitresses circled the smokey tables, offering refills of the pungent beer to anyone with less than half a tankard full. This tavern, called the Leaky Bucket, was hardly an auspicious place for an adventure to begin.
“Really, a tavern?” one of the four adventurers, a black-haired human woman, remarked. “Sort of a cliché way to start a game, isn’t it?” From under her long black cloak she pulled out a knife and began polishing it. The simple action had been enough to reveal that beneath the cloak she had several more knives of various sizes strapped to her legs.
One of her companions, a short human with curly brown hair, frowned disapprovingly at the first woman. “That’s not very nice to point out,” she said. “He worked hard on this.” She wore a white dress and carried an ornate staff; it would have been difficult to seem more out of place at this seedy establishment.
The third person at the table, a tall and muscular female half-elf a wooden broadsword strapped to her back laughed heartily. “Whom dost thou speak to? And of whom?” she said in a booming accent that was hard to place, but could best be described as ‘fifth grade production of Shakespeare.’ “We all be together—no, beist together—or is it be?” After looking confused for a moment, she started again. “We all existeth together, so let us make our names known, fellow brave companions!” She stood up in and in a singular motion drew her wooden sword from her back, brandishing it like it were real. “I art Erenata Vallanodauter! Hero of the Great Tree, and warrior renowned for feats of skill, valor, and, um,” her accent seemed to slip while she struggled for another word, “Skillful valor! So who mightest ye all beist?”
The woman in white raised her hand. “My name is Bekah.” As the others stared at her, she tilted her head as if receiving instructions from an unheard voice. “Oh, that’s right.” She cleared her throat. “Not my name, my character…my name is Beatrice. I am a…cleric,” she said, as if she hadn’t known the correct word until that moment. “Nice to meet you all!”
The dark-haired woman with the knife nodded. “Call me Appraiser. I specialize in covert operations, burglary, and stabbing people when they aren’t looking.”
All six eyes turned to the one person at the table who had not spoken yet, a female gnome dressed in scorched tatters of what had once been simple clothing. She seemed to quail under the scrutiny, but in a voice barely audible over the background noise of the tavern, she introduced herself by saying “my name is Descartes. Combat wizard.”
Introductions made, the four sat in awkward silence for a moment before Erenata, the half-elf, broke the silence. “Well, comrades. I hast come to this town in search of adventure and in search of adventuring comrades. Ye seemest good enough.”
“Oh, so we’re just ‘good enough’ for you?” Appraiser sniped back. She rested her knife on the table and produced another one from beneath her cloak. “What high praise from tree lady.”
“I beist more than a mere tree lady!” Erenata replied indignantly. “My tale is one of woe and hardships, travails like one such as thyself could nary dream.”
“Please don’t fight,” Beatrice the cleric pleaded. She turned and spoke to seemingly nothing. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, is it?”
As if in response to her plea, the door to the tavern swung open again, letting in a howl of wind. All eyes turned to the man in the door. Despite being a dwarf who stood barely higher than the tables around, he stood out by wearing distinctive blue and gold robes. One of the tavern’s patrons—it was hard to tell who from the crowd—grunted out the words “royal adventurer commissioner.” Many of the patrons exchanged wary glances with each other.
The dwarf cleared his throat and the room fell silent. “I have a quest,” he announced in a gravelly voice with a peculiar accent—like he was an American boy trying his best to sound Scottish, but instead sounding like a skinny chain smoker. “The nation needs a party of brave heroes to patrol the city’s outskirts against the increasing attacks from undead. Of course, you will be paid well.”
Appraiser whispered “cliché upon cliché.” As Beatrice shushed her, the dwarf finished his proclamation.
“If any adventurer in this room wishes to participate, stand up, if you please.”
Erenata shot to her feet, hand raised like a teacher had asked a question she was eager to answer. “We wishest!” she exclaimed.
The recruiter nodded. “And who is your party?”
One by one, Beatrice, Appraiser, and Descartes raised their hands, Beatrice looking cheerful, Appraiser rolling her eyes, and Descartes keeping a deliberately blank expression.
The dwarf nodded. After jotting down some notes on a scroll, he sat down at their table. “Right, then,” he said, all business. “Just need some preliminary information before you start work. How much adventuring experience do you have as a group?”
The four exchanged looks. “This is our first night as…coworkers,” Appraiser said.
In exchange, the recruiter raised an eyebrow. “I see. Well, adventuring is a dangerous job. Royal law strongly encourages that official government quests only go to adventurers with some level of experience, for their own safety.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Aw, don’t you think you can make an exception?” Appraiser purred, her voice becoming throaty. She leaned in close. “Just this once.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult,” the recruiter conceded. “I just need some evidence of your party cohesion.”
“How can we do that?” Appraiser asked.
Speaking for the first time since her introduction, Descartes was the one to answer, surprising the others. “How else? With violence.” She stretched out the last word, a dangerous look in her eyes. She said nothing further but used her staff to point to the opposite end of the tavern floor.
During the conversation, most people in the room had lost interest in the recruiter and his business, and by this point the volume had returned to its usual level. In particular, three men in rumpled city guard uniforms, sitting in the booth Descartes had indicated, were being particularly rowdy. As the five watched, one of them grabbed the wrist of a passing serving maid. She struggled, but the guard didn’t let go, he and his companions laughing at the young woman’s struggle.
As one, Appraiser, Beatrice, Decartes, and Erenata stood up from their seats and strode through the crowded tavern toward the men. Before they could get all the way, the barkeeper placed himself in front of them. “Don’t cause no trouble with the city guard,” he pleaded.
“But they’re hurting her!” Beatrice said anxiously, her white cleric’s robes swishing in anxiety.
Appraiser put her hand that didn’t hold a knife on the barkeeper’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” she confidently told the man.
The barkeep glanced back to the three men, who still had not let the girl go. Looking back at the four, he sighed and stepped aside. “Just don’t wreck me bar too bad.”
When the four got closer, it became clear that the three men were very drunk. It took them a moment to notice the four new people. When the man restraining the female server finally paid attention to them, he released his victim who beat a hasty retreat.
After a few moments of openly leering at the four, he spoke. “Hey there ladies,” he slurred, “lovely evening, isn’t it?”
Erenata rested her hand on her sword. “It was,” she replied.
“Was?” inquired the leader. He grinned, showing off his rotting teeth and painfully bad breath. “We’z just tryin to have a relaxn’ evening after a day’s hard work protecting the city.” The other two guffawed stupidly.
“Why did you hurt that woman?” Beatrice asked directly.
The man who spoke leaned in uncomfortably close, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “That ain’t none of your business. Do you knows who we is? We are the Thunder Trio! We’z famous around this town. You aughtta leave well enough alone, ifn’ you know what’s good for ya.”
While this exchange was happening, Erenata and Appraiser stood by with their hands on their wooden sword and knife, respectively. Descartes, however, stood in the back holding her staff. She muttered words under her breath with her eyes closed in concentration. Just as the leader man leaned uncomfortably close to Beatrice, Descartes opened her eyes and thrust out her staff at the so-called Thunder Trio.
In doing so, she accidently smacked Erenata on the back of the head with the wooden staff. Still, a bolt of fire erupted from the end of her staff and engulfed the leader. “Aaeeee!” he screeched, sounding like an undergrown teenager imitating a drunken thug imitating a terrified little girl. He jumped out of his seat and started dancing around in panic.
At the sight of the leader’s head catching flame, the other two men simultaneously exclaimed “boss!” They rushed to get up and put out the fire, but there was no need. The flames around the man’s head disappeared as quickly as they came, leaving the man’s face cartoonishly darkened and with every piece of hair burnt off. Based on the volume of his yell, however, there was no permanent damage. “You’re dead, shorty!” he roared, swinging a rusted broadsword and striding toward Descartes, who was now cowering back, clutching her staff.
Erenata jumped between them to parry the blow with her own carved wooden blade. “Behold, compatriots!” she exclaimed to Descartes, Beatrice, and Appraiser. “Let us not fail this test before the eyes of our good employer!”
Enraged, the burnt leader struck with his sword again, this time targeting Erenata. She blocked once more, using the momentum of the strike to empower her counterattack, scoring a hit on his elbow. The two exchanged more blows.
By this point, the entire tavern was aware of the fighting. Those sitting in seats closest to the battle jumped away to give them space, but the rest of the patrons began cheering and taking bets. The bartender halfheartedly called out “don’t wreck me bar too badly” before leaning on the countertop to watch.
The other two thugs now approached the battling pair of Erenata and the leader. Their attempts to aid their leader were short-lived, however. Descartes pointed her staff at the one on the left. She muttered the same magical words she had said before, causing this one’s head to also catch fire. The flame extinguished just as quickly as before, but this flunky was not as tough as his boss. After the fire went out, he collapsed to the floor, either unconscious or dead.
The thug on the right cried out in anger. He ran toward Descartes, drawing a thick club from his belt. He was promptly stopped by a large knife held to his throat. In the commotion, Appraiser had left her seat and snuck up behind him. With her dagger pressed close to the neck, she leaned in to whisper into his ear. “You clearly aren’t real guards. Your uniforms are disheveled and you’re drunk while you should be on duty. So if this fight continues long enough to attract the real guards, how merciful do you think they will be to a bunch of thugs dressing up as them, raising a ruckus, and attacking a bunch of women? So why don’t you all clear out of here before things get too messy?” The man nodded dumbly.
Meanwhile, Erenata and the leader were still fighting, but the fight was growing sloppier. Both had landed hits on the other. Erenata was lightly bleeding from several wounds, while the leader of the fake guards was severely bruised of several parts of his body. Beatrice had watched the entire altercation in dismay, but she exclaimed “Oh, Erenata! You’re hurt! That means I should heal you, right?”
“Yes—please—do—I—could—use—the—help—if—you’re—not—too—busy” Erenata grunted, each word punctuated by a strike.
Rachel nodded, pointing her finger at Erenata. “Heal!” she commanded. A brief flash of light surrounded the wounded Erenata. When the light disappeared, several of her wounds disappeared. She attacked the leader with a renewed vigor. After a few more exchanges, she struck the leader on the wrist, forcing him to drop his sword.
That was enough. Realizing he was outmatched, the leader turned and ran for the door, calling out “I’z will not forget this! The Thunder Trio will have its revenge” over his shoulder as he left the building. Appraiser withdrew her dagger from the one she had intimidated. He scooped up his charred companion and followed his leader out the door. The entire fight had taken less than a minute.
Applause erupted around the room, some sarcastic but most genuine. In response to the applause, Beatrice smiled and waved, Descartes slouched into herself like she was trying to disappear into her robes, and Erenata jumped onto the now-vacant table, flourishing her sword.
Appraiser turned triumphantly to the dwarf, who had watched the entire skirmish impassively. “Well? Do we pass?”
The recruiter stood up. Pointing at Appraiser, he said “reckless.” Moving his finger to point toward Beatrice, he said “too slow in your healing.” Next indicating Descartes, he said “sloppy.” Finishing with Erentata, he remarked “too aggressive.” The four waited with bated breath. Finally, he sighed and scratched his head. “Well, I guess I’ve seen worse. You’re hired. Report to the city guardhouse tomorrow morning.”
Beatrice hugged Erentata in joy. The latter looked surprised but pleased by the gesture. Appraiser offered a high-five to Descartes, who timidly accepted it.
“Oh, there’s one more thing I need,” the dwarf said. “For paperwork reasons. What is the name of your party?”
The four members hadn’t discussed anything like that, but nearly without hesitation, Beatrice stepped forward. “From this moment forward, we are…the Sunviewers!”
There was a polite round of applause from the other three, although Appraiser did discretely roll her eyes at the name. With a nod of acknowledgement, the recruiter stepped back out into the night, leaving the Sunviewers to enjoy a round of the too-strong beer in the company of their new party.