The Unlikely Company

Kendra, the mayor of the coastal township of Sandpoint, rubbed the bridge of her nose once more.

“Look, it’s quite a simple task. Find out where the creature nests and destroy it. I’ve got a pile of petitions from scared farmers reporting loss of livestock. I can’t understand why no one has been able to find this thing with all the damage it has been causing.” Kendra said as she glanced over at the stack of parchments sitting precariously on the corner of her ornate blackwood desk.

Moonfeather turned the blackened claw over in her hand and studied it for a moment before she asked, “And, how many adventurers have attempted to find the creature? Is there anyone in town that I may be able ask to find out more about the creature?”

“Unfortunately there is no one else to ask.” Kendra sighed in exasperation, “No one has offered their assistance, even when we increased the reward. You are the first. Can you help us?”

The nod from Moonfeather was more than enough to send Kendra into an excited flurry of activity. She stepped over to the wall behind her desk and motioned for Moonfeather to join her. A large map of Sandpoint and its surrounding lands adorned the wall. Kendra pointed out a series of pins that denoted some of the surrouding farmland.

“All of the reports I’ve read thus far are from here. My advisers assure me that the creature should be within this area.” Kendra waved her arm about in an approximation of a circle. “There is an abandoned cave system here, and I have been told that the creature is likely there.”

An owl shaped tattoo on Moonfeather’s upper arm began to glow with a pale white light. The light floated away from her arm and coalesced into a snowy coloured owl. Kendra’s eyes widened in shock and she took a few steps back as the owl perched upon Moonfeather’s shoulder.

“Don’t be alarmed, Mayor. This is Archemedes.” Moonfeather felt a wave of apprehension emanate from Archemedes and flow through her. “Abandoned caves, right. I think I may require some help. May I hang on to this claw?”

“What ever you need.”

The salty smell of the coastal air was the first thing that Moonfeather noticed as she left the Town Hall. Hailing from the Storval Plateau in central Varisia, Moonfeather had very little to do with coastal towns and oceans. A soft hoot from Archemedes brought Moonfeather out of her little reverie and brought the immediacy of her problem to the front of her mind. She felt sure that this creature was beyond her capabilities and that she would need to recruit some other like minded adventurers to help her out. The reluctance of the locals to take this problem on, especially when the substantial reward was considered, left her feeling that this task was going to be quite difficult.

Moonfeather spent the remainder of the day strolling about Sandpoint and enjoying its various sights. Before she knew it, the sky had darkened and a loud rumbling signalled that this was not a night to be caught out side. Following a few locals down Market Street, Moonfeather stopped short of crossing South Bridge, and found herself staring at a large wooden building with an oversized and rusted dragon statue looming out from over the roof. The Rusty Dragon was a reputable inn, and so Moonfeather decided to enquire about some food and lodging.

The inn’s main hall was well lit, with chandeliers full of magically enchanted smokeless candles that never burn down. Moonfeathers eyes were immediately drawn to the long timber bar, where she watched the dancing candle lights reflect of its highly polished surface.

“Oi! Bar wench! Ale, please!” Moonfeather looked around the hall to find one of the patrons, a large Half-Orc, staring right at her. “Actually, better make it two!”

“I’m not—” began Moonfeather.

“Pring, you halfwit, she’s clearly not a bar wench.” said the Half-Orcs Elven companion.

Moonfeather decided to act on this opportunity and headed over to the bar. She then strolled over to Pring and his companion, bearing two flagons of ale.

“Here you are,” she said as she sat down. “My name is Moonfeather, and I’m looking for some help with a local matter.”

Before Moonfeather had even finished her sentence, Pring had quaffed the first ale in what appeared to be a single gulp, and had managed to get half way throught the second one. The Elf watched him with a look of disgust on her face.

“Forgive my brutish friend. I’m Zaradae. What do you need?” the Elf asked.

Pring cut in and began talking over Zaradae; “Err, will there be more ale? If we help you, I mean?”

“Yes, ahh, Pring, was it? There will be lots more ale if we manage to complete our task.” Moonfeather recounted the details of the job to the unlikely pair, showing them the blackened claw. Pleased with the prospect of more ale, Pring acquiesced. It was clear to Moonfeather that Zaradae had reservations about the job, but was not going to let Pring go along without her.

Now that Moonfeather had enlisted some help, she went about securing a room. Zaradae suggested that they may get a discounted rate if the three of them were to stay in the same room. Pring was having none of this.

“Pay? To stay here!? We can sleep out side and use that money for more ale!” His outburst was punctuated by a loud thunderclap. He shot up to his feet and made an unsteady beeline to the door. Moonfeather stared at Zaradae with a look of confusion on her face. If Pring had been slightly less intoxicated, he may have noticed the short robed figure that followed him out.

Scanning the street in front of him as he was being pelted with rain, Pring spotted a tree with a broad canopy. As he neared it, a bolt of thick lightning arced down from the bowels of an angry purple cloud and struck the tree, causing it to explode in a shower of rent leaves and wood chips. The shockwave knocked Pring prone and, now that he was lying down, he immediately fell asleep. Had he stayed awake for but a moment longer, he would have heard the dimunuitive robed figure chuckling mightily to himself.

Pring awoke to find a thin stream of sunlight shining down right onto his face. He took a moment to clear his bleary eyes and took in his surroundings. Mouldy lengths of straw barely covered an uneven stone floor, timber benches protruded from the three crude stone walls. The final wall was made of floor to ceiling thick metal bars. Sleeping on the benches were three other drunks. Pring climbed up onto the bench to look out of the small barred window. He grabbed onto the bars and gave them a bit of a shake. The bars came loose in a shower of crumbled mortar, and, with a self satisfied smirk on his face, Pring began to squeeze out of the window.

“What’s all this then!” a loud booming voice startled Pring mid-escape and he banged his knee into the wall.

Pring sheepishly slid back into the cell and made his way over to the Guard, “Ugh, you’ll probably want these back,” he said holding out the window bars.

“You do understand that this is the drunk tank. You only had to let me know you were awake and sober and you would have been on your way. Destruction of property is a very different and expensive matter”

“I don’t have any coin on me…”

The sly smirk disappeared off of the Guards face, and he abruptly turned around and began walking away.

“Wait! Wait, I think I’ve found some. Here’s a copper kit.” The Guard just stared at Pring. “Oh alright. Here, five copper kits.”

The guard pocketed the coins and opened the cell.

Pring left the Garrison and immediately headed off in the direction of the Rusty Dragon. The Sandpoint Market was in full swing, and even Pring was having trouble making his way through the crowd. He barely made it half way through before he bumped into Moonfeather and Zaradae.

“Sleep well?” Zaradae asked drily.

“I’ll be better after my breakfast ale!”

“Not this morning, you’re not. We’ve finished buying supplies and are about to head out.” Zaradae didn’t even wait for Prings response and began walking up Fesival Street, towards North Bridge.

“But, but…”

Before long the trio found themselves on the road out of Sandpoint. The morning passed rather uneventfully, and before long the adventurers found themselves on the path between Shankswood and Tickwood when Moonfeather felt a sudden tension from Archemedes. “Careful, there’s something up ahead.”

Clearly a much practiced maneuver, Zaradae unslung her bow and knocked an arrow while Pring rotated his shoulders and stretched his arms. This was all the warning they had before a group of Goblins appeared from around the bend ahead of the trio. This was all the warning that they needed as Zaradae let the arrow fly. The arrow struck the first Goblin in the chest, just as an enraged Pring bounded up and punched it square in the jaw. The Goblin went down, but two more swarmed over it and swung their clubs at Pring. He deftly dodged the first, and caught the second club on his upper arm. The grin the Goblin gave Pring made the Half-Orcs blood boil, it was short lived, however as a bright blue missile of pure arcane energy slammed into its torso. Pring focused his rage and delivered a second blow to the formerly smiling Goblin’s head, knocking it down flat. Two more Goblins rounded the bend, the first rushing at Pring, brandishing its notched shortsword. The last Goblin made a dash for Moonfeather and stabbed at her with its rusted shortsword, grazing her thigh.

With two Goblins down, two engaged with Pring, and the last one harrasing Moonfeather, Zaradae made a quick decision and fired her bow at the Goblin that was about to take a swing at Moonfeather. The arrow scraped along the Goblins arm, barely slowing it down. Archemedes swooped down at the same Goblin and raked his talons across its face, badly injuring one of its eyes. Moonfeather swung her quaterstaff at its head and delivered a punishing blow. Pring danced between the jabs made by the remaining two Goblins, and between each returned a flurry of blows at the sword wielding Goblin. He managed to land two solid strikes, in vital areas, dropping the Goblin instantly. The last Goblin, realising that he was out matched threw down his club and fled into the Shankswood. Pring immediately gave chase and he charged headlong after the Goblin, smacking low hanging branches out of his way. With a sigh, Zaradae motioned Moonfeather to come her, and carefully followed after the quickly disapearing Half-Orc.

Pring watched as the Goblin tumbled to the ground with an arrow protruding from his eye socket. Shocked, he looked past his quarry and found himself staring at the business end of a longbow, held by an unfamiliar Elf.

“Friend of yours?” the Elf aksed. Just as he finished, Zaradae and Moonfeather came into view from behind the trees. “Ah, we have you surrounded now, filth. No sudden movements.”

“Hey, Elf. You have it all wrong. This is a very close friend of mine. Put the bow down, lets talk about it. My name is Zaradae” Zaradae attempted to clam the situation down.

Clearly confused, the Elf slowly lowered his bow, all the while staring at Zaradae. “What strange company you keep, Zaradae.” he said in fluent Elven. “My name is Venalis Shadowsong.”