1.27

Thunderous sounds of a violent tantrum woke Bob up from his light sleep. Hank had been prone to sudden outbursts of rage ever since the fight with the automaton.

Growing up, Hank had always been a problem child. Often getting mixed in with the wrong crowd, Bob always handled it the best he could and always hoped Hank would grow out of it.

Hank and been close to settling down, but after the passing of his mother, he returned to his ways headfirst.

It was when Hank joined a violent crew in the neighbouring town of Deer’s Point, that things really got out of hand.

He’d joined the most prominent gang in town, and shortly after a brutal and bloody gang war broke out. The town mayor resorted to requesting soldiers from Deer’s Point.

Before reinforcements arrived, the warring gangs had finally escalated to murder, the step taken when Hank accidentally killed someone during a brawl.

When the score of soldiers finally arrived from Dawn’s Ledge, they put the town under martial law, killing many criminals. Hank managed to slip out just before a Judge arrived.

Judges were powerful beings that came from an ancient city on another continent of Merrin. Altered in numerous ways from all paths of magic, it was rare for anyone to survive a direct confrontation. They’d been known to defeat entire adventuring parties.

After the events at Deer’s Point, Hank had been living quietly in Cobbleson. Bob believed he’d finally grown up. However, he returned to his old ways and had gotten worse.

Thankfully, Fenrick and his party had come just in time and tangled with Hank and his gang and won. Fenrick had found the cause of Hank’s new violence and even pledged to find the source. That had brought a lot of relief.

Bob and the crafters of Cobbleson had reinforced Hank’s door and windows with bars, essentially converting his small room into a prison. At times, Hank was okay. Bob could enter the room and even talk to his son about plans for his life. But other times, Hank would be taken over by this explosive rage, and all Bob could do was pray to all the Paragons he could think of, that his son’s room would stay closed.

In a way, it was both a relief and a source of anxiety to know that Hank’s extra aggression was not completely his own fault. The way Bob saw it, it meant his son was still reachable, no matter how slim. His son could be brought out of this. But it also meant, whoever could be responsible for something so dangerous, how much of a threat were they if they ever came to Cobbleson?

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Hank’s tantrum died down after ten minutes and Bob breathed a sigh of relief. He tiptoed through the small cottage to Hank’s room. He passed by the door of his other son, Gerald, who’s room was now empty. After the incident with the automaton, Gerald had left Cobbleson in pursuit of a quiet life somewhere.

If Hank was the roaring lion, Gerald was the quiet mouse. He had coasted quietly behind the whirling dervish that was his brother and never shown interest in pursuing anything in life.

Bob never thought Gerald would have the courage to leave Cobbleson, but he supposed it was in fear. He’d have someone track him down and bring him back.

Bob now stood in front of Hank’s door and breathed as quietly as he could. He waited for some kind of noise.

Glayda had awoken uneasy that morning. Although she couldn’t place it, it was a lifelong guide that had helped her more than once.

Glayda did her best to keep busy, but it barely helped. She wished Fenrick and the others had stayed. They brought a feeling of comfort with their presence.

Glayda had been so wound up, she grabbed for her club when the first patron entered the Cracked Cauldron. She eased up when she recognised Bob.

The old guard captain had come every day since his son Hank had gone wild. Spending money as though it were some kind of penance.

“Just the usual thanks Glayda.” Bob sat himself down at his usual table, one in the far corner of the room, looking at the door.

“Yeah, sure.” Glayda quickly prepared what he wanted and brought it back to him.

“Are you okay?” Bob asked Glayda when she handed him his meal. She looked stressed; Bob could see it in her eyes.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about today.” She sat down with her friend of twenty years and looked at his tired eyes.

“I feel it too. We’ll just see if everything goes smoothly hey?”

A group of four people walked into the bar and Bob and Glayda knew they weren’t locals. Two humans, a faun, and an ursidae.

“We’re looking for a place to eat,” growled one of the humans. He looked about five and a half feet, black hair parted in the middle and stopping just at his ears. His nose looked as though it had been broken one too many times. He wore studded leather armour with shin high leather boots and Bob noticed a hook sword dangled from both sides of his waist. His skin was covered in freckles and moles.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” one of the other workers at the Cracked Cauldron, a middle-aged short human named Mechel, spoke up as he came out from the kitchen. He gave a slight look to Glayda and Bob, but turned to face the new patrons.

The other human was a burly woman with muscles that looked like they would rip the sleeves of her shirt at any moment. She was only slightly taller than the man with the hooked swords, and she had short, blonde hair with a section of her fringe covering one eyebrow. The uncovered eyebrow was pierced as was her lip, and hanging from her side was a throwing axe.

“What can I get you?” Mechel asked.

“Some good grub, and some good drinks,” snorted the woman with the throwing axe.

The faun and the ursidae walked over to one of the tables and sat. The faun wore a long wool cloak with a wolf skin over her shoulders. Her hair was a mess of dark and light purple and she appeared to be wielding no weapon at all.

The ursidae was the most hulking figure Bob had ever seen, easily reaching just over seven foot, he wore stone plate armour, something Bob had never seen before. The sight of them made Bob nervous and he feared what they may want in such a small and out of way town like Cobbleson.

“Do either of you two happen to know where we may find Hank Smith?” The burly woman looked to Glayda and Bob, and they both noticed poking out from under both her sleeves, were some tattoos that glistened in the sunlight.