I sighed as I watched the guild door swing back and forth in the wind. The guild house was a beautiful building decked in marble with trophies hanging from nearly every surface, but that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t want to be here. However, Villena won the arm wrestling match and a deal’s a deal. I had to go with Dad to “take-your-offspring-to-work-day.” Regardless, it didn’t help that Dad forgot I was here and got into a drinking contest with a receptionist. It’s not even noon yet!
Fortunately, it didn’t take long for someone else to notice my plight. Unfortunately, it was the worst person possible. Guildmaster Torro strolled right next to me, smiling a commiserating grin.
“Your father does know that Betty can’t get drunk, right?” He asked me. I sighed, looked at the ceiling, and replied.
“He always thinks that ‘today’s the day,’ no matter how many times Ma tells him that Betty has enough holy power flowing through her veins to be immune to all poison.” I shook my head. Dad had always been the most headstrong orc I had ever heard of. “I wonder why Ma even tries anymore!”
We stood and watched for a few minutes as Dad downed ale after ale, eventually collapsing to the floor. Two other men dragged him off to the side of the room, where he promptly began snoring. Betty, completely uninebriated, smiled at his unconscious form before marking a notch on a wooden plaque from her desk. It read: “Drinking Contest: Bash vs. Betty.” The Bash column had zero notches, and the Betty column had 74.
Guildmaster Torro shook his head and turned to me once again. “How did he even get married with that level of stubbornness?”
I shrugged. “That’s the whole reason Pa managed to marry in the first place. He literally proposed to Ma every day for over a year before she said yes.”
The Guildmaster gave a grin at that before continuing on. “I have a proposal for you, Donk. It looks like your father will be… unable to accompany you today. However, your situation is not unique. I have several other bored initiates waiting at that table over there. Perhaps you’d prefer a nice, easy adventure instead of waiting in the lobby for the next,” he paused and looked at my father before continuing on, “...five hours?”
I frowned. Adventuring was dangerous work, no matter how well-paying. Besides, what could I do? All I had was an untested greataxe, a birthday gift from Ma, and Pa’s “injury avoidance” training from years ago. I simply raised an eyebrow towards the Guildmaster.
“Ah, you’ll be fine. ‘Sides, they’re all just as nervous as you are. Jeks! Take care of Donk here; he’s a real nice kid!” He slapped my back, causing me to stumble towards a group of people milling around. Jekyl, the aforementioned “Jeks,” looked up as I crashed into the small group.
“And that’s nine! Let’s head over to the desk to discuss your mission today!” Jekyl cheerfully walked towards the front desk, and everyone slowly moved behind him. I glanced around and noticed that Guildmaster Torro was already walking back towards his office. With no real options, I followed Jekyl toward the desk, where he was looking through what appeared to be a quest paper.
“Gather round, gather round everybody!” He shouted. When he heard no movement, he looked up to see everyone already circled around him. “Oh. That’s right, you’re not as rowdy as regulars yet.” He looked to be slightly embarrassed.
“Anyways, welcome to the New Adventurer’s Orientation. How many of you are here because your parents dragged you to ‘take-your-offspring-to-work-day’?” Five people raised their hands, including me. Jekyl nodded approvingly. “We picked out an easy, no-combat mission for you all to see what adventuring is really like. Hopefully, some of you will come back, and we will finally get more employees around here.” He grumbled before continuing on. “I’ll need everyone to sign these waivers before we head out today. It’s the standard legalese. Basically, the Guild is not responsible for decisions considered ‘stupid’ as per current standards.” He handed out a sheet of paper to everyone in the 9-person party.
Looking through it, there didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. The Guild was not responsible for monster ambush insurance, retrieval of souls sold to extraplanar entities, ensuring child support payments, preventing the licking a gibbering mouther, providing compensation for resurrection magic, paying for the fees for cosmetic surgery necessitated by battle-axe juggling, etc. I was among the last to sign the document, as most people simply went straight to the bottom and signed. The document vanished in a flash of pale brown light.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Jekyl smiled once again. “Now that that’s done, let’s talk about your training mission!” He pulled out a map of the surrounding land. Our city, Nuotykiu Centras, was clearly marked in the center, with roads radiating outwards to smaller settlements. Jekyl dragged his finger along a trading road going due north. “We’ve lost a few carriages along this stretch of road. However, the city’s war room map shows no powerful magic in the area. It will be your mission to go out there, determine what’s making these carriages go missing, and retrieve any lost goods if you can find them.” He circled a sharp road bend on the map. “We think that this is where the disappearances are centered.” Then, he turned to us. “I know you think you’re all hot stuff, and compared to the average person, you are. Be warned! There’s beings out there that make our good ol’ Guildmaster look like dandelion fuzz. Do not, and I repeat, do not, get in over your head and try to punch above your weight class. About one in twenty adventurers dies without receiving their badge, and 90% of the time, that’s because they made a stupid decision and got in too deep. If you can’t handle whatever’s destroying those carriages, retreat and report back. Zakrak knows how many lives a retreat could’ve saved in some of the stories I’ve heard.” He shook his head before giving an encouraging smile. “Now go! Sunlight’s a-wasting.”
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The motorized carriage groaned as it trundled down the road. I sat up front, keeping an eye out for interesting plants. There wasn’t much need to watch for bandits or roadside monsters, as a city task force would comb nearby areas for threats twice a season. I had just finished organizing the guild-assigned backpack when someone poked my shoulder.
“You’re a big one, aren’t you?” I turned around and looked at who poked me before my eyes widened in surprise. He was a hellsborne.
“What, never saw someone outside your frontier city with red skin?” He asked, sneering slightly down his nose. I quickly shook my head.
“No, I was just startled to be poked, that’s all. I didn’t notice you earlier at the Guild. May I borrow your name?” I asked, privately noting that his skin was far more orange than red. He grinned, recognizing the old fae custom of not asking for a name.
“You can call me Ryn, pal. Seems like you’re a bit more worldly than I’d have expected for a frontline fighter. I’m here for some quick cash, no more, no less. And your’s?” He replied.
“Mine? Oh, my name’s Donk.” I said back. Looking at him, his robes and worn book bag indicated that he was some kind of magic user, probably a wizard of some sort.
“Donk? Who named you, a rubber club?” he questioned, confused at the simplicity of my name.
I smiled halfheartedly in response. Not even Ma understood Pa’s insistence on naming children after the first loud noise they made. Luckily for my sister, Ma managed to get a traditional name down before Pa stopped crying with joy over his new daughter.
“Don’t worry about where I got my name. It’s traditional.” I responded.
Ryn nodded knowingly, or at least pretended to. “Half-orcs. Always the strangest names.”
Before I could reply, two more heads poked out through the wagon’s front curtain.
“Did I hear front-liner?” A burly human asked. He was also carrying a greataxe, which looked more used than mine. It was well cared for, though. A forest elf, slightly less muscular but as fit as the previous human, poked his head out right after. This man carried a finely-honed greatsword.
Looking at the two, I recognized them as fellow members of the front line. I figured that a good relationship with men I’d likely be fighting directly alongside could never be bad, so I replied. “Yep. I don’t have much talent with bows, and my magic has always reacted strangely to any attempt at control, so I stopped messing with it. Frontline for me.”
The two men grinned at me. “Name’s Sheng, friend!” Said the human.
“And mine is Ludwig,” continued the elf. “Sheng got dragged here by his mother, so he dragged me in turn. Do you have any talents beyond that axe you carry, Donk?”
I scratched the back of my head. “I’ve always had a talent for smithing, but Villena, my sister, has always had a slight edge in that regard. Still, I can hammer out a decent weapon any day of the week.” Ludwig and Sheng nodded respectfully. As any worthwhile adventurer knew, a martial’s survival depended on his or her weapon, and a weapon is only as good as the smith who forged it. Ryn snotted contemptuously before seeming to come up with an idea.
“Say, Donk… you don’t think you could forge me some equipment? Asking as a friend?” He asked. While his request seemed innocent, I could see the gleam in his eyes.
“For a price, yes.” I shot back. Ryn immediately pouted, muttering about “killjoys” and “unfair market practices.” I smirked back at him before looking back up to the road. What I saw chilled my spine. I’d spent enough time with Pa in the wilderness to recognize the signs hidden in the flora. Broken branches in the bush near the ground. Disturbed detritus, moving in unnatural ways. Worst of all, faintly visible parallel lines cut awkwardly through the underbrush. I turned to Sheng and saw the recognition in his eyes, too.
I pushed the stop button on the mechanized carriage while Sheng pulled Ludwig back into the vehicle’s body to start gearing up. Creeping into the forest, I looked for tracks and traces for a minute. When I finally found them, I cursed under my breath. “Shakrok. Rabid goblins.”