Waking up from his pleasant little siesta, Lem got up from the worn old couch in his living room before heading to the pantry. He a pair of Stopnips to eat before heading out the back entrance. The blunted scythe rested on the wall beside the back door, with Lem grabbing the tool after putting on his boots as he began his trek into the village.

As the Capyban leisurely strolled along the side of his house with the scythe resting on his shoulder, he spotted something odd through the Kaholin stables by pure chance. For through the crack in the door and the building itself, he was able to see that Joantack’s handcart was still parked in the field.

Shouldn’t that bull be done with collecting his fertilizer by now? Lem wondered before quickly putting the issue to the back of his mind. If Joantack was off doing something or still talking to his son, then it’s not that much of a problem or any issue.

The rancher then continued on before nearing the hay-field where his scything was left unfinished and where a nagging feeling prompted him to turn around.

He was able to spy the conspicuously orange form of the Minotaur some ways off into his Kaholin fields and lying in the grass. The dung wheelbarrow was nearby and with him squinting his eyes, he was able to spot a small ring of disturbed grass besides the Minotaur.

That’s Kano hiding about and no doubt skiving as usual.. but what in the Realms is Joantack doing having a nap in the fields with him? Wondered Lem before turning back to continue on his way. The Capyban then chuckled to himself as it occurred to him that the farmer must still be really hanging from the previous evening.

..

After nearly an hour and a half of walking at a leisurely pace, Lem arrived in the village proper.

He was about to turn right at the edge of the village and head towards his friend’s smithy before a commotion in the village center caught his eye.

The young boys in the village guard were carrying a bunch of dirty-looking vagabonds between them and heading through the town center and towards the edge of the Whisperwoods.

With his curiosity getting the better of him, Lem approached a small crowd of his neighbors milling about as they gawked at the scene.

“What’s going on here?” he asked a small group that consisted of the headman’s son Dalm, Evelain the Minotaur wife of Joantack and the hunched over, Gilbert the reptilian ManaTinkerer.

The trio then turned before smiling and greeting the new inclusion of the Rancher to their little nosey-ing crowd.

“Hello mister Brownwhisker. I was just on my way back from an errand for father, but it seems here, that a few of the current adventurers in town, who were doing chores on mister Ban’s orchard, have found these vagrants eating some Brew-fruits before passing out. Then they proceeded to report the matter to the guards,” explained Dalm before he adjusted his huge and lumpy beany that sat upon his huge head. The brown head garment was at odds with his dark green suit and crimson waistcoat. But nobody commented on the Gnorkling’s hat anymore, for the ingenious beanie contained some dirt that allowed the young and productive Gnorkling to overcome his fear of the open sky and go about the village to help his father with administrative work.

“It’s good to see you out and about Gilbert,” noted Lem with a curt nod at the normally seclusive Scicidian. “Where are they taking the bunch?”

The short reptilian man smiled in reply before answering, “ well my daughter’ssss been kickingsss up a fusss aboutsss me being all coopedsss up in the houssse… and workingsss too much, ssso heresss I am…out for a ssstroll.”

“Well I’ve already took my son aside and asked all about it. So apparently those poor lads are playing at being Adventurers and down on their luck, so the boys are taking them to the guest lodge to sleep off the fruits and I was just about to tell Dalm over here.. to get some paperwork sorted in case they want to say around and help out,” stated Evalain before the black and white Minotaur woman patted a huge hoofed hand on the young Gnorkling’s shoulder.

The Minotaur woman only did it casually and with no ill intent, but the size difference caused the young UrbanSupervisor to shake unsteadily on his feet and nearly toppling over.

“Oh sorry there Dalm! Didn’t mean to shake you all over like that, you poor thing, Mooo!” apologized the woman profusely before wiping her hands on the front of her grey frock listlessly. Gilbert hissed in laughter whilst Lem was able to hold back the little chuckle that nearly escaped, but he still released a musk of joy at the scene.

“It’s ok miss Evelain, I’m sure you meant no offense,” replied the young Gnorkling as he re-adjusted his beany that nearly fell off. “But you are correct, I should head on home and let my father know that he should draft up a small informal work contract for those adventurers just in case they choose to stay and help out. But maybe I should go speak to the adventurers who found them first, and then find out what levels these new band are at, so father can draft the informal contract accordingly.” Then with one hand on his beany, the young Dalm performed a crisp bow with his thin neck visibly straining at having to hold up the young Gnorkling’s huge head. Dalm then straightened up before giving the rest of the trio each a curt little nod and then he was on his way towards the orchard in quick little measured strides.

“I wissssh my girl wasss asss hardworking and polite like thatss boy,” spoke Gilbert with a sigh at the retreating little Gnorkling.

“Oh me toooo-mooo!” Evalian agreed before snorting out of her nostrils. Lem himself also nodded for he also agreed that out of the youngsters in the whole village, Dalm was by far the most fastidious and hardworking.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The trio then stood there for a short while as the reflected poorly on their own children. But before long, Lem coughed into his own hand as he remembered that he had business to attend to.

“Well it’s best if I head off, I’ve just remembered that I’ve got to nip in to the Firefly,” spoke the Capyban before giving a small nod down towards Gilbert and one up towards Evelain. The pair then nodded in return before they too, headed their separate ways.

As Lem opened the door into the general store, the bell that hung by the door rung but he found the place to be deserted save for the young Canaltia Fem manning the counter on her own. With the proprietor and his wife nowhere to be seen.

“Hey there wee Canaltia, you see Shivalteek about the place?” he asked the girl as she was engrossed with some huge ledger in front of her on the countertop.

“No mister Brown, mister Shivalteek just left for the headman’s house just a few moments ago,” answered the canine girl without looking up from her work.

“Any idea when he will be back?” asked Lem with his head through the doorway.

“I’m sorry mister Brown I have not been notified how long he will be away, my master is through the back and should be back within a few moments if you have any questions?” replied the girl, still engrossed with the lists in the ledger she was reading whilst tracing a clawed finger over the page.

Well looks like I’ll just have to double check with Sarking-Tars myself about the order for Da’Nittan, thought Lem before shaking his head and thanking the girl for her time. The Desert Kobold girl waved him goodbye without even looking up from her work as he left the store.

..

Lem was glad to see that his friend was preoccupied with work and very very hungover and grumpy. He made liberal use of his Longfoot skill to quickly race from cover to cover as he crept up to his friend. With the sweating Orc being non the wiser as the Capyban stealthily crept into his opened-air forge as he hammered away at a particularly terrible looking sword.

“Whatish ish thish piech of shitsh shword! ARGHHSGH BY THE FATHERSH I’MISH TOO FUCKING HUNGOVER FOR THISH SHIT” the Orc swore loudly before angrily smashing the red-hot sword onto his anvil and badly bending the weapon out of shape.

“What’s that smithin skill called?” Lem casually asked as he stood nearly directly behind his friend.

“WHOOAAISHYAAHAFUCKKAAR!” shouted Lok-Tars as he jumped out of his seat with whilst swinging his hammer behind him wildly.

Lem who had wisely chosen to scare his friend whilst leaving some legroom, only laughed a few paces away with his scythe resting on his shoulder. His laughter grew by another magnitude as the Orc then clutched onto his head before swearing some more, no doubt due to having exacerbated his hangover.

“Whatsch the fuck do you wanscht?” asked a grim looking Lok-Tars before sitting back down onto his stool that he had by working on. But even as annoyed as he was, a tiny smirk was on the edge of his lips for he knew that the Capyban had gotten him good.

“Nothing much Lok, I was just wondering how my slug-colored friend was doing you know,” joked Lem with a musk of joy. He then held onto his scythe with both of his hands before pulling the blade closer to his own face for a mock-inspection.

“Actually there is something you can do for me, my good friend,” Lem tried to say casually but couldn’t help himself from wrinkling his scarred nose. “Do you mind grinding the blade of my scythe for me? It’s twelve coppers for a sharpening if I’m correct?” he then asked as he fished out the same purse that Joantack had paid him with recently, with the Capyban trying to keep his face impassive and serious all the while he was carrying out his charade.

“Are yousch fucking serious Lem? I’m fucking hangingsch out of this Realmsch and yousch wantsch mesch to grind your fuckingsch SCYTH?!” the Orc exploded once more before shooting out of his seat whilst waving his hammer about wildly.

Meanwhile Lem had finally lost it and started to madly laugh once again as he backtracked away from his crazy friend.

The in his rage the Orchish blacksmith then flung a whole tirade of native orcish swears and slurs at the Capyban after another wave of pulsing headaches torn through his mind. At the sight of the keeled over Orc, Lem started laughing so hard his eyes started to water, whilst he squirted his musk of joy all over the place and him needing to hold onto the scythe or else he would’ve fallen over.

“Alright! Alright! I was joking! Here I’m gonna do it myself!” shouted Lem with a smile before holding up his free hand in surrender before walking over to a stool for himself. He then walked over to the grinding wheel before sitting down. Lok-Tars slowly subsided into a minor huff as he watched the Capyban work the pedal of the grindstone before taking the blade of his farming tool to the spinning grindstone.

“I thought you were a better blacksmith than to still be making useless tin-ranked gear like that, what you’re nearly Gold now no?” Lem asked whilst gesturing with his huge nose at the bent sword. He did so to change the topic, but also because he was genuinely curious as to how did his friend end up with such a bad sword along with a few equally badly-made knives and a broken shield in the corner of his shop.

“Yer right to think thisch isn’t my work! It’sch the equipschment of the new advenschturer-boysch that just roll into town. Fellclawsch’s boy brought itscht to me and asked if I can fixsch up this pile of rubbisch for the sorry lot,” explained Lok-Tars before sitting back into his work chair. “Yousch heard of these new onesch?”

“Yeah I did, just the now from Dalm and Evelian down by the village center. Don’t you think it would be easier to just melt them down and start anew?” Lem replied before making his suggestion as sparks flew off the blade of his scythe.

“Do Isch tell YOU how to rear your monstersch?” asked a annoyed Lok-Tars over his shoulder at his friend, for clearly he was still in a foul mood.

“No,” came Lem’s reply with a small grin whilst he continued to run the blade of his tool along the edge of the spinning wheel.

“Well in thisch case I think yer right youscht smelly old rat,” joked Lok-Tars with a smile that broke through his frowning face. The blacksmith then threw the still smoldering sword that was beyond saving away into a scrap pile before getting up. He then went over to retrieve the pair of terrible iron knives and then also threw them into the same pile, to be salvaged for arrows or nails at a later date. “I’m done with work today, I’msch goingsch back to bed,” announced the orc with a wave of his hand.

“And that’s me done here too,” Lem also announced as he held up his scythe that now gleamed menacingly. “Oh and Lok?” he shouted at the retreating back of his friend who wore nothing more that his blacksmith’s apron, a pair of work gauntlets and some worn old trousers.

“Whatsch?” the orc asked with his head turning over his shoulder.

“Is your wife still at work or is she a lily-livered Orc like you who can’t handle his drink and is going to bed early like a little boy?” asked Lem with a lopsided smile as he leaned on his scythe.

“She’sch still at work you annoying RAT!” shouted the Orc before spinning round and throwing one of his gauntlets at his friend.

The Capyban rancher was easily able to nimbly dodge the projectile and then proceeded to laugh even more as he watch Lok-Tars leaning over with a hand on his head. For it seemed that the throw had triggered another headache.