Chapter One: A Journey Ends and Another Begins
Samarra boldly strode pass the splintery palisade gates of Gind’Har, last and largest bastion before the true wilds of the frontier. The mission had been a relative success, the journey was at its end.
Gind, to all but the most pedantic, it was truly a place made by and for those monster hunting mercenaries called adventures. It boasted a huge Adventurer’s Guild and the only Adventurer’s training ground for over a hundred miles. Samarra had helped build Gind, and now she was returning to the home, and the family she had made for herself. Samarra inhaled deeply and let her half-elven ears, and decidedly human nose, take in the sights and smells of her Gind. Her city was busy preparing for tomorrow’s festival. Even now at dusk, workers and farmers built stalls and spice filled the air as meat and treats were prepared for the upcoming festivities.
Darrel, her party’s young and brash human scout walked slightly behind her. Samarra knew he would say it was so he could “watch her back” but she was confident his eyes watched a little bit lower than her back.
Behind Darrel came the “eccentric” beardless dwarven battle mage, Iko Firewhiskey. Sneak-thief and general ne’er-do-well half-orc, Toby Two-Shoes, and the matronly priestess Tallisa Greywater followed just slightly behind the drunken spellcaster. All of them, had together defeated the mad mage Torvald and put his army of elemental slaves to rest.
Now it was their time to rest. Their time to celebrate. Samarra had not missed a harvest festival in almost twenty years and she and her party had ridden hard to make it in time for this one. She marched confidently into the largest inn Gind had to offer, The Glass Rose. Samarra strode inside the inn confidently expecting boisterous laughter, free flowing alcohol, and song. She sensed dark mutterings and gloom.
“There should be song….” She thought to herself. This is wrong there should be festival songs. Her friend and surrogate mother, the ex-barbarian adventurer Hilga Highhaart should be cooking and cussin’ up a storm. Sweet Timmy should be a little tipsy and singing happily off-key. The red haired ranger and her friends briskly found a table in the strangely quiet dining hall. Samarra had a bad feeling.
Samarra quickly cast her green flecked brown eyes around the room, her ears too pointed and long to be human, too round to be fully elven, took in the low mutterings and that passed for conversation. Her half-elven eyes saw furtive glances from across the room, all directed toward that sinister looking mercenary band sitting in a southern booth facing the inn’s entrance.
Samarra could see why those “people” drew the inn patrons eyes. The dark group in the corner was revolting and sent small chill up her spine. On one end of the booth sat a small slip of a girl. Her age rendered completely indeterminable under layer after layer of grime and filth. But the most eye catching and obvious feature, apart from the disgustingly mangy dreadlocks, was the foot long yellow-white grub that seemed to have replaced her tongue. It was devouring a whole chicken with remarkable, sickening speed.
Next to that, the hulking skull covered set of armour, and the woman wrapped head-to-toe in rune covered bandages seemed normal. The last of this misfit group of miscreants was a blank masked man in leather armor with bone studs. Something about that last man sent a shiver up and down Samarra’s spine. But this shiver was different, for some reason Samarra was excited. “What was this? Who is that man?”
Just as Samarra was about to say something to the companions taking seats around her, Timm’ikk the bubbly padfoot waitress appeared. With a round of unordered ale in her arms and an uncharacteristic frown on her dog like face, the beast girl sighed with relief. “Thank the gods! I get so nervous when the Red Hook people are here.” Timmy, as the typically smiley waitress insisted on being called, jerked her head in the direction of the sinister characters in the southern booth at the mention of the name “Red Hook”.
“Who are those Blackguards?” Slurred Iko, blackguard becoming “Blagourds” as he a rudely pointed to the booth in the south.
“Killers, and creeps. They appeared a few weeks ago bringing sack after sack full of ogre and troll heads. But I don’t think that’s why they are here in Gind” said the waitress.
As Iko, Samarra, and their friends processed that information, the “Blagourds” began to move. One by one they made their way towards the exit. The whole inn sighed a breath of relief. The festivities could continue. Then tragedy struck. The villainous looking group took a strangely circuitous path towards the inn’s exit passing right by Samarra’s table.
Then it happened. The armored skull covered hulk slightly bumped Iko’s chair. An entire inn collectively held its breath.
“Watch where y’er goin’ Tin Man.” The feisty and fearless, four-foot-two battle mage somehow seemed to look down on the nine foot tower of metal as he growled and fingered the weathered Ironroot wand on his hip.
The deep mechanical rumble that escaped the metal monstrosity could be felt in the chest of every patron within twenty feet. As customers tensed, and prepared to escape the inevitable brawl, a miracle happened.
The blank faced rogue offered an apology and proffered an incredulous stack of ten gold pieces to Samarra and her friends.
Iko, who was already singing a spell in his mind, was too flabbergasted to speak. Samarra took the initiative from the drink addled dwarf and thanked the mysterious figure offering so much gold for such a small mistake.
“My thanks good sir…” She began to say when the blank faced man’s hand shot out like a viper. Grabbing her arm and pulling her in close. He whispered in her ear a phrase that would turn her life upside down.
He said it in a voice so quiet she wondered if she was imagining things. “It’s so good to see you again, Pig-Tails.”
That was all it took to break Samarra.
Fear, pure overwhelming happiness, confusion, and a thousand other emotions pummeled Samarra at once. She started to tear up. Embarrassed at crying, happy Kas was alive, sad and a thousand other things at once, Samarra’s own hand snaked out. Grabbing the strange man’s arm. NO. Grabbing his arm, she blurted out “That’s impossible!”.
“I know” Came the sullen reply. That was all the proof she needed. It was Him. Kas. The man Samarra knew as Kas pulled away just as her fingers tightened around his leather clad arm. Following his departing companions, he gave one last look at Samarra before walking out.
“THE FUCK WAS THAT? Are you OK?” said Darrel. As far as Darrell was concerned anyone who laid a hand on Samarra was asking for a beat down. Samarra turned, wiped the tears from her eyes and announced that she was going to bed and was not to be disturbed. She grabbed the wine pitcher helpfully placed there by Timmy, and headed toward her room on the inn’s second floor. Focused entirely on quelling the conflicting emotions bubbling insider her. She left only confusion and worry in her wake.
“What the FUCK was that?” Came again from Darrell. It was joined by “Is Sammy ok?” and “Who were those creeps?”
Just as those words of bewilderment left the companions mouths, an answer came bursting through the kitchen doors in a wave of heat and fury that had very little to do with the intense heat of the busy kitchen.
Retired adventurer, part-time cook, and full-time raging barbarian, Hilga Highhaart charged the hapless adventurers with a meat cleaver in one hand, a wooden spoon in the other, and rage in both eyes. “What did you do?” The elderly woman cast her gaze specifically at Darrell. The ex-adventurer knew how he looked at her darling Sam.
“It wasn’t him! It was those Red Hook scum.” Came the high pitched voice of Timmy the beast-girl server. Hilga calmed down and decided not to rain down wooden blows upon Darrell’s knuckles. At Least not yet. “Tell me what happened” Hilga commanded, the adventurers reacting instinctively to her orders.
“And then he whispered something into her ear and left.” Priestess Greywater had finished catching Hilga up to speed when Darrell spoke up. “What he whispered didn’t even make any sense.”
“Hey they may not be elven, but these ears are better than most!” Came the scouts defensive response to the number of raised eyebrows his friends gave him.
“It’s so good to see you again, Pig-Tails. What is that code or something?” Darrell turned to face the ever reddening Hilga. The berserker woman just kept muttering under her breath. “Pig-Tails? PIG-TAILS?!!!!”
“Wha” the question was cut short by a cleaver chopped deep into the wine stained pinewood table. “that…That is not possible”
“That’s what Sammy said. Is that like a code word or something” Darrel queried, blissfully unaware of how close to cleaver related death he was at that moment.
“It is what HE called her.”
“Who?”
“The man who raped and tortured Samarra. The man who we hunted for years. The man who I personally saw dragged into hell. I don’t know how he is back and I don’t care why. I take more pleasure in his second death” A sudden jolt shook the brawny woman. “That bastard can teleport! Get to Samarra now!”
All hell broke loose in the Glass Rose dining hall. Samarra was beloved in Gind, and the Red Hook were despised. Frontier justice was at hand.
As bedlam broke out on the first floor. A quiet and almost romantic event played out on the second. As a million questions swam in her mind, Kas suddenly gotten down on one knee. Samarra’s left hand grasped in both of his. “Samarra Riversong, will you do me the honor of” Samarra held her breath in excitement. “Being my kidnapping victim?”
“Oh You brute!” she exhaled and seemed to deflate. “What scheme is this now? And why must you pretend to be a monster to do it?
“All will be revealed Pig-Tails. Getting out of Hell ain’t cheap dont ya know?. The board is nearly set, the pieces in place. The Gods’ Great Game is about to start. It’s a chase, a treasure hunt, and the adventure of a lifetime.” Samarra groaned, but couldn’t hide her excitement.
“Are you in? Quickly now I think that scream was Hilga.” Kas had kept his mask on this whole time, yet Samarra could see his lopsided grin perfectly clearly.
She smiled back at the wooden mask. Fine she said rolling her eyes and barely containing a grin. But after that stunt you pulled getting down on one knee, I’m kicking you in the plums during my “kidnaping” she used air quotes on the word.
“I know,” he replied.
Samarra’s will cracked and she showed of surprisingly white teeth.
Samarra whispered, “This will be fun,” before giving off a blood curdling scream and a swift kick to a certain pair of plums.
One adventure had ended, but an even greater one had just begun.
The narrative writing assignment was by far my favorite. As someone who used to write short stories for fun, I realize how badly I need an editor. It was extremely difficult for me to be able to cut out lines or descriptions. Each word felt like my baby and I couldn’t abandon it. I still need to watch my grammar, punctuation and spelling. I also need to watch my tenses and perspective.
Greyson.Jones MCOM 2320 