1.01

Fenrick Jabble schlepped down the main road of the small town that he’d found himself at. The bleeding purples of nightfall had almost completely taken the sky.

The buildings were a mix of whatever timber, stone and the occasional brick that could be found. The buildings had a uniform feel in their ramshackle appearance.

Fenrick stood a little over three feet tall, the grey hair on top of his head was closely shaved and he had no sideburns, but his fancy moustache had won an award once. Most were mistaken that the elderly looking gnome was weak, but he had a sinewy strength that belied his appearance.

Ragged traveller’s clothes hung from his body, a simple white shirt, brown pants, and leather boots. Over his shirt, Fenrick wore a tarnished breastplate. A symbol of a green tortoise shell on the front, was once worn with pride. But was now only worn for protection.

Strapped to Fenrick’s back was a sword and a shield, which bore the same symbol as his breastplate.

“That tavern looks promising. What do you think, Tad?” Fenrick’s voice sounded worn. Like a tired whisper on the wind. Whatever power and authority it once held was gone.

A few paces behind Fenrick was Tad, a huge tortoise. She was brown and green in colour, and she looked as wise as any aged scholar. On her shell was Fenrick’s spear and various traveller’s supplies.

Tad gave a yawn and Fenrick chuckled to himself; “A bit different to the hustle and bustle of Dawn’s Ledge, isn’t it? You can see the stars here.” Fenrick was used to seeing gas lamps and zeppelins circling the great city, but here, it was quiet, and he liked that.

Fenrick approached the tavern. It was a mix of timber and stone with a large double-door entrance. The second storey was wider than the first floor. Smoke billowed out from the stone chimney and a delicious aroma flowed out of the windows. Fenrick’s mouth started to water. A second look at the tavern, and Fenrick was certain the tavern had a slight lean to it.

Just as Fenrick was about to climb the stairs, loud voices from inside caught his sensitive ears.

“That thing there’s a straight cheat it is,” bellowed a voice. The jaunty accent was rough, and the anger only made it harder to understand.

“Its not cheating when you agreed to the bet to begin with, you stupid lummox.” This voice had a dancing ring that demanded respect.

“Oh, wait up a bit Tad, looks like there’s trouble afoot.” Fenrick put his arm up and Tad growled in protest. “Shh, we’ll just wait a sec. I don’t want to go walking into a fight if I can help it. I know you’re itching for one, but I’m not.” Though years of his training took over and Fenrick had grabbed his sword without realising it.

“We’ll settle this here and now then.” The first voice had grown louder with excitement. “C’mon gang, five against one, seems like a fair fight to me.”

“Hank! You’ll take that fight outside right now. You don’t want to know what would happen if you broke anything. Out, shoo!”

“Yeah, alright then.” Fenrick was frozen in place as he watched six figures step out of the tavern and descend the stairs. Curious onlookers held the door open.

Five of them looked rough as guts. Missing teeth, scars, stubble, patched together armour from scrap metal and leather. They were all humans. The other was a female orc.

Fenrick guessed she stood just over six feet tall, she wore simple garments with a brown trench coat over the top. Her black hair was pulled back in a high knot and thin glasses framed her determined face. What really grabbed Fenrick’s attention was the strange device she was wearing.

Strapped to her body was a leather and metal harness and protruding from her back was a large metallic arm. It was segmented and stretched out and over her and had four fingers. Two joysticks were held like handles.

The five rough looking humans stood around her. They looked at each other, smiling. Daggers and clubs danced around their hands as they sized up the orc.

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“You look like you could use a hand,” said Fenrick. Tad was already standing by the orc’s side, a smile on her face. Fenrick approached the orc and readied himself.

“Oh look, a tiny little gnome and a cranky looking tortoise think they can help our friend here. This is gonna be fun, don’t ya think?” The meanest looking one appeared to be the leader, this was Hank.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind at all. Name’s Sharampf.” Sharampf gave a nod to the tortoise and showed the gnome a smile.

“Ah, Fenrick. And this here is Tad.” Tad snapped at the humans.

“A Tortoise Knight hey, don’t see your Order much anymore.”

“No.” In that moment, Fenrick’s voice had become a mere sigh and his demeanour had taken on a heavy tone.

“C’mon then, lets get on with it,” jeered one of the hooligans.

“Now this hardly seems fair.” A voice echoed through the dark. “Who thinks five against two, and a tortoise, is any fun?” The direction of the voice was hard to pinpoint.

“Show yourself,” roared Hank. His fellow ruffians wore looks that were a mixture of annoyance and fright.

“Hmm, but why should I? I could easily dispose of all of you without even showing myself.” The voice gave a soft chuckle.

“You can join us if you want,” said Sharampf.

“Alrighty then. Here. I. Am.” In a flash of bright gold, the newcomer, commonly known as rabbit folk, stood by Fenrick and Sharampf.

The leporid, a little over five feet with the ears included, wore blue cloth pants and a yellow vest. A few golden earrings were scattered along both ears and a heavy looking golden chain held an impressive looking onyx stone. The fur was mostly brown in colour, except for a small bit of white fur on his chin. Fenrick noticed the hand crossbow the leporid was holding.

“The name’s Bodwyn, thanks for asking. I’m here to help even the odds. This lot looks pretty ugly, you reckon they brush their teeth?” Bodwyn gave a wry smile and held his hand crossbow at the ready.

“Are we starting or what?” Hank ran straight for Sharampf. Two ran at Fenrick and two ran at Bodwyn.

Fenrick retrieved his shield just in time and blocked an attack from a mook that wielded a club. Fenrick slid through the legs and drove a strong blow with the pommel of his sword into his lower back.

“Come here you.” The second thug leapt by their partner and made to stab at Fenrick with a pair of daggers. Before the weapons had a chance to connect with Fenrick, Tad had slid into position. The daggers glanced off her massive shell. She turned and bit the attacker’s left hand.

With one dagger dropped, the thug had an idea, something rare for him, and aimed for Tad’s face. Tad immediately retracted her head and was safe from harm.

Fenrick took the moment of distraction and ran up and leapt off Tad’s shell. He smashed the shield right into the face of the thug, knocking him down.

The gnome’s vision blinked as a club cracked him in the side of his head. Fenrick swayed and collapsed as the club crashed down on his head. Fenrick quickly rolled onto his back, ready for the next attack that never came. A jet of water crashed over the thug, and he fell into the mud.

The thug tried to rise once again, but was knocked out cold when Tad’s shell smashed his face.

Tad pulled Fenrick back up to his feet and checked him over.

“Thanks girl. Getting a bit rusty.” He smiled as he massaged his head.

Bodwyn was locked in a dangerous dance of attacks and parries with one of the thugs. Sensing no way forward, Bodwyn resorted to burning quips.

One particularly obscene insult did the trick, and in the moment of staggered rage, Bodwyn unloaded a crossbow bolt into the chest of the thug. His attacker stumbled back and fell, a look of shock on his face.

Bodwyn pumped his fist in victory and forgot about the other attacker. She seized the moment and made to stab the leporid.

“No no,” said Bodwyn. He waved his hand, and a mass of gold coins flew out and formed a barrier between himself and the thug. The dagger bounced off the coins and the thug looked confused.

A well-aimed kick from Bodwyn sent the thug through the air. She landed face first into the ground.

Hank’s twin daggers sliced and diced at Sharampf with unrelenting fervour. It took all she had to block his oncoming onslaught.

With one blinding movement, Hank ducked in within the mechanical arm and thrust at Sharampf with one of his daggers and clipped her side. Disturbed by the look of glee on his face, Sharampf used the moment to send an electrical charge through her mechanical arm.

Seemingly unperturbed by the shock, a too-wide grin crept over Hank’s face. He made to attack Sharampf again, but a quick thrust from a mechanical hand pushed him to the ground.

“That was a lot harder than I thought it would be,” Sharampf chuckled.

Fenrick rushed over to the one that Bodwyn had shot. He pulled a leather satchel from Tad’s back and applied some thick, pungent paste over the wounds from the bolts.

“Um, what are you doing?” Bodwyn asked.

“Patching him up.” Fenrick uncorked a small bottle and waved it under the nose of the thug.

“Why? They attacked us. We were only defending ourselves.” Bodwyn pilfered a few copper coins from the thugs and was disappointed he found nothing else of value.

“It doesn’t mean they have to die.” The thug came to with a groggy groan. “Go on, get.” The thug pulled himself up and staggered away into the night.

“Come on in, you three deserve a drink. Its on the house.” Fenrick looked up and saw coins being exchanged between some of the onlookers.

The owner was a burly looking woman similar in height to Sharampf. Her short red hair was tied back in a messy knot and an eyepatch covered her left eye.

The three of them looked at each other and climbed the stairs into the tavern. Hank pulled himself up and skulked off into the darkness with the others.