To the people under the shadow of the Hold of Belkzen, life is full of danger. It is for that reason that when the time comes for celebration, they embrace it with both hands. No place is this more evident than in the village of Trunau, where this tale begins. And so it is that the story begins on the night of one such celebration, for this is the night of the twelfth birthday of one of the town’s residents.
Ruby, daughter of the town’s chief defender, Halgra of the Blackened Blades, would be undergoing her hopeknife ceremony, marking her passage into, if not adulthood, then something very much bordering it. The ceremony itself is oft a grim one, in which the guest of honor is taught the proper way to use their newly given blade to cut the vital arteries of those who face capture by orcish raiders, saving them from a fate worse than death. And not only were they taught how to kill others, but also how to easily kill themselves, to spare all possible from torture or slavery at the hands of the brutal orcs.
Halgra took to the stage and addressed the crowd in attendance. “Thank you all for joining us this night. I take immense pride in my responsibility as Chief Defender, especially when it comes to the honor of the hopeknife ceremony. It is always a privilege to bequeath Trunauan youths their hopeknives as they come of age.”
She turned to the table next to her and opened an ornamented box sitting in the center of the table. From within she withdrew a slender, ornately decorated dagger hanging from a silver chain. As she did so, several members of the town unconsciously reached up and touched the knives hanging from the chains on their own necks. Halgra noted the motions with approval.
“But tonight,” she continued, “is a special occasion. The recipient of this particular hopeknife is none other than my youngest daughter.” She turned to the nervous child standing next to her.
“Ruby, by the traditions of our town, you have come of age. This hopeknife represents your responsibilities as an adult and defender of Trunau. You must be willing to use it on yourself, your fellow Trunauans, and your family – even me, should it come to that. It will be a far quicker death than that which the orcs will offer, and providing it is your duty. Do you swear to guard Trunau from all comers, and to use your hopeknife only for its intended purpose?”
The child, Ruby, suppressed all instinct to bolt from the eyes of the crowd, swallowed, and nodded.
Halgra had hoped for a more enthusiastic response, but she was proud of her daughter for doing her best. “If the orcs come, and there is no other option, this is where you cut – here, here or here,” she said, indicating several arteries close to the surface. When she was done, she sheathed the knife once more and hung the chain around her daughter’s neck before turning to address the crowd. “Tonight, Ruby becomes a full member of our community! Let us welcome her, and celebrate her passage into adulthood! Trunau forever!”
“Trunau forever!” the crowd cheered in response.
Gwen sat in the audience, taking stock of the crowd as the Chief Defender spoke. There were a lot of people there, many of them outsiders. She spotted the large man from a few nights past, as well as the Samsarran cleric – who wore an approving expression as Ruby was taught what was expected of her – and even the strange man Jazier was sitting in the crowd. It was a rather large crowd, but Ruby deserved it. She was a good kid.
As Halgra finished, she addressed the crowd once more. “Now, now that we’ve dispensed with the important part, on to the fun part! Enjoy your food and merriment! But not too much of the latter for those of you who are scheduled to stand watch.”
Rodrik grabbed a drink and invited Kermit and Valbrand to join him. “Enjoying yourselves?” he asked.
“I’ve seen bigger parties,” Valbrand noted. “But any party is great as long as everyone is having fun. Needs more wenches though.”
“And you, Kermit?”
Kermit considered for a moment as he sipped the last of his tea. “Dreams are how we found out where we want to go. Life is how we get there. Come, Glenn. We’re going to grab more tea.”
An awestruck Rodrik set down his mug and began writing down what Kermit had said. “Your friend is full of profound wisdom,” he told the giant man.
Valbrand laughed. “If you think that’s something, just wait until you meet Rodd Rigez. In fact, I remember this one time…” and he continued on, telling Rodrik of the time his friend had bartered nothing more than words for the egg of a harpy queen, from the harpy queen herself. Rodrik, for his part, listened in rapt attention, taking notes as he spoke.
Having heard the tale before – indeed, having been there – Kermit refilled his tea and sought other conversation, approaching the guards. One in particular, Omast Frum, who was well into his third mug of mead, greeted the grippli warmly. “This guy is the best,” he said to a fellow guardsman as he invited Kermit to speak with him and his friends.
Kurst went to speak to the Samsarran cleric, Qumeel. “How are you, this fine evening?” he asked.
“I am doing well, thank you,” the cleric answered warmly.
“It’s always good to have you here, Qumeel. It’s rare to find one like you who is kind to everyone.”
The cleric chuckled. “Those who displease Ragathiel would disagree with your assessment of me. But it is of no matter. I do not care for their opinions, as it is not the place of those who displease Ragathiel to judge, only to be put down for their transgressions such that they may never harm others again.” He noticed something. “You appear to have a burst blister on your hand. Hard training?”
“Trying to master a new technique,” Kurst said. “I was not quick enough in parrying a blow and got a bit of a hit in the process.”
“Let me see it,” the cleric said. It was less a request than a command, and Kurst complied. “It is good I looked at it. It will fester if not treated.” He said a prayer and pricked his own finger, crystal clear blood dripping from the wound onto the blister. As the blood dripped, the blister began healing where it touched.
“That’s amazing!” Kurst exclaimed. “Trunau’s apothecary could work wonders with your blood, save a lot of people.”
Qumeel nodded. “I have been to see him already. He has taken as much as I can spare this trip.”
“You’re a good man, Qumeel,” Kurst said. “Come, let me buy you a drink.”
Meanwhile, Valbrand had finished his story. “I will miss your tales,”
Rodrik said. “Do you know when you and Kermit are leaving?”
“When the caravan departs,” Valbrand said, draining his tankard.
“I believe we have a few days yet.” He turned to the person in charge of the keg. “More mead!” he demanded jovially, slamming the cup on the table.
“I just noticed something,” Rodrik noted. “You’re very tall. Excuse me for asking, but do you have any giant’s blood in you?”
Valbrand laughed. “That’s right, I never told you that tale. I do not have giant’s blood. I come from Ulfen stock. My ancestors are the iron men of the north, tall and powerful. At least on my father’s side. My father is jarl, or chieftain, to your people, and leader of the combined raiding forces of three towns.”
“And your mother?”
“She is half-orc.”
“A warrior?”
“A bard. She traveled from town to town, trading song and poem for coin and lodging. They say she was the most beautiful woman in the region she traveled, and had many suitors. But none were strong enough to match her and none had the wits to woo her.”
“How did your father manage to win her heart?”
“It took some time,” Valbrand admitted. “As she tells it, it was some years after he kidnapped her.”
Rodrik spat out his mouthful of beer. “He what?”
“She was performing at an inn in a coastal town when my father’s raiding party arrived. They sacked the town, carrying off everything of value, from the gold to the grain to the beautiful wenches. He was so stricken with her beauty that he gave up his share of the rest of the spoils just to ensure that none would object to him taking her as his own.”
“He what now?”
“Mother claims that he was always a romantic like that. My elder brother was the result of their first night, taken aboard the ship while the fires of the town burned. He is even bigger than I and will make a fine jarl when my father dies.”
“That’s… disturbing,” Rodrik said, noting the parallels to orcish raids on Trunau.
Valbrand shrugged. “It’s the way things are done. Those with strength take what they can, and those with strength hold on to what they value. Your town has proven stronger than those around you, and as such, I must admit that your people have my great respect.”
From a distance, Gwen spotted Rodrik’s disturbed expression and walked over to help extract him from what was obviously an uncomfortable conversation. “Excuse me, cousin, but shouldn’t we go get Kurst so you two can start the next part?”
“Oh!” Rodrik said, glad for an out from the strange conversation.
“Right. Can you show me where Kurst got off to? I really should get that started. Valbrand, if you’ll excuse me, duty calls. Perhaps we can talk later.”
Valbrand nodded. “I have many other tales to tell. But for now, more mead!” he said, slamming his tankard on the table once more.
“Thank you,” Rodrik mouthed to Gwen as she showed him over to where Kurst was chatting with Qumeel.
As the others talked, Omast spotted Rodrik writing in his journal. “Always working on his poetry, that one,” he said to the grippli. “He should be next in line to take over as patrol leader. But there’s controversy about that, since he and his father had a bit of a falling out. Well, if he doesn’t want the job, maybe they’ll have me do it, instead. You get me, Kermit?”
Kermit sipped his tea. “That’s not really any of my business,” he said.
Omast clapped him on the back. “I knew you’d understand.” As they talked for several minutes, eventually he fell asleep, collapsing on and trapping the frog-man. Glenn, the man in the pelican suit who carried Kermit’s things, did what he could, but found the armored guardsman too hard to lift.
Her cousins both took the stage and Rodrik addressed the crowd.
“Alright everyone! As traditional, we’re going to begin this with a contest.” He marked the ground with some chalk while Kurst laid out a rope. “On one side will stand my brother and me. On the other, Ruby must choose champions to aid her in besting us. Do we have volunteers?”
A hand shot up from the back of the crowd and a syrupy sweet voice rang out. “OOH! ME! CHOOSE ME!” came the words of a young woman dancing back and forth from leg to leg, desperate to get noticed.
“O-Okay,” Ruby said hesitantly, indicating the young woman.
“Yay!” the woman said, making her way through the crowd, bumping into Jazier as she made her way to the stage, where she immediately hugged the girl. She was barely a scant few inches taller than the child, who, while tall for her age, wasn’t so tall herself. “Thanks, chief! You won’t regret it.” She walked over to Halgra. “Excuse me, but can you hold Sakura-chan for me for a moment?” she asked, not waiting for an answer before thrusting her naginata into the hands of the bemused Chief Defender.
“We still need others,” Rodrik said to Ruby. He scanned the crowd.
“How about that one there?” he asked Ruby, pointing at Jazier, who could not have looked more disinterested.
“Sure,” Ruby nodded. “Please, mister?” she asked.
Jazier sighed. “If you insist, I can participate,” he said as he made his way to the stage.
“One more should do it,” Rodrik said. He looked to Gwen, who shook her head, telling him in no uncertain terms that it was a bad idea. She had many gifts, but strength was not one of them.
Gwen was saved from participation by Valbrand, of all people. But not because the large man wanted to join in. That would have required putting down his mead. Instead, he pushed Glenn out of the way, reached down and fished his friend out from underneath the sleeping Omast, and held up Kermit. “You need a real fighter! My friend volunteers!” he said.
Ruby, terrified of angering the large man, gulped. “O-Okay,” she said.
Kermit looked at the crowd, then at Valbrand. “You’ll need to put me down,” he noted.
“Right,” Valbrand said, setting his friend on the ground. “Make a path!” he roared, and the crowd parted.
The young woman hit her fists together. “Alright. We’ll win this for you, chief,” she said, grinning at Ruby.
“Please, introduce yourselves to everyone,” Ruby asked her teammates.
“I’m Lucky Days!” the girl said.
“And you?” she asked the grippli.
“I’m Kermit. Kermit T. Frog.”
She turned to the man. “And you?”
“I am an innocent bystander,” Jazier Alhazred responded.
“Alright, take your positions,” Rodrik said.
“Where do you want me, chief?” Lucky Days asked Ruby.
“Um… right behind me?” Ruby said uncertainly. “Then Mister
Bystander and Mister Kermit in the back.”
Once they’d taken their positions, Rodrik nodded to his competition. “Okay, we’ll start at three. One. Two-“
“WAIT!” Valbrand bellowed, stopping the count. “Kermit! Do the thing!”
The grippli considered it, then nodded. He set down the rope, put his hands together and closed his eyes. Wind began blowing around him, seemingly from nowhere as a hush fell over the crowd. Then his eyes shot open, revealing bright glowing light from within, and he let out a roar. “GUYVER!” he shouted.
Bright light enveloped the grippli, temporarily blinding everyone who was looking at him, and when it faded, a being as tall as Valbrand stood there. It had no mouth or nose, only steaming eyes that burned with neon fire. And it wasn’t wearing anything, though anatomically, that did not seem necessary for modesty’s sake. Indeed, its very skin seemed armored.
“What the hell?” Gwen asked under her breath.
“Shall we begin?” the creature asked. Its voice was like Kermit’s, only deeper, and with an echo like the rush of water within a rapids.
“Um… okay,” Rodrik said. “Counting again. In three, two, one… go!”
The Grath boys started off with an early lead as Ruby’s team, if it could be called that, failed to work together initially. They pulled the larger group first five, then ten feet. “Should I maybe do something?” Jazier asked the girl in front of him as the two groups reached a standstill, mostly due to the efforts of Lucky Days harnessing her anger at the early disadvantage.
“I don’t know. I just don’t want to be embarrassed in front of mom again,” Ruby answered timidly. “Go ahead, I guess?”
The crowd had begun cheering. A little more than half, Gwen included, were chanting “Grath!” and rooting for the boys. The remainder were chanting “Ruby!”, rooting for the guest of honor and her picked team. Only one man was chanting anything different, as the now somewhat awake Omast Frum was chanting “Kermit!”
Ruby’s team lost another five feet initially as Jazier focused on his trickery. But they stopped the slide as his spell went off, causing a small spark on the other side of the rope, right next to Kurst’s hands, creating a small flash and causing the rope to smolder. But even then, the team was still only holding the Grath boys from winning.
Valbrand saw that his friend’s team needed help, so he began bellowing out a battle song, infusing it with the power of his craft. It filled the group not with courage, like those of a traditional bard, but instead inspiring rage within the entire team. Buoyed by their anger, the team pulled with all of their might and began slowly regaining ground.
Kermit locked eyes with Rodrik. The man felt like those blazing orbs were boring a hole deep into his very being. He could see promises of pain and misery within the flames, and his heart quaked. “NOW!” Kermit shouted, and he and Lucky Days yanked with all of their might, pulling so hard that both Ruby and Jazier were lifted from the ground and dragged backwards. The force was so great that Rodrik and Kurst tumbled forward, falling flat on their faces.
For a moment, the crowd was stunned silent. Then the cheers began anew, now split between chants of “Ruby!” and “Kermit!”
Once it was over, there was a flash of light and a burst of steam and Kermit had resumed his normal appearance. “Glenn,” he said, “bring me my tea. All that pulling made me thirsty.” The pelican-suited man rushed to oblige.
Gwen walked over to her cousins and helped them up. “You would have won if that Jazier hadn’t cheated,” she said angrily, but softly enough to avoid causing a scene.
“It’s fine, cousin,” Rodrik answered. “I’m pretty sure the frog would have killed us if we won anyway. So it’s all for the best.”
“And Ruby looks so happy,” Kurst added. “Come, let’s go congratulate the winners.”
Ruby, elated, had dropped her rope, turned and hugged Lucky Days, who had come to congratulate her. “Thank you!” she said happily. “I never win.”
“Give thanks to Kurgess,” the young woman said. “And to Coach.”
“I will,” Ruby said. She was going to ask who Coach was, but several of her fellow children rushed up to congratulate her and took away her attention.
Instead, Lucky Days was met by her opponents. Rodrik extended his hand. “Well fought,” he said.
“It was a good contest,” Lucky Days agreed, shaking first his hand, then Kurst’s.
“What brings you to town?” Kurst asked.
“Coach told me to come here,” she answered. “Said some of his friends would be here for a few days, and I should meet up with them here. I just need to figure out where they are.”
“If they’re visitors, you should talk to Cham down at the Ramblehouse,” Rodrik suggested.
“Ooh! The Champ? I’d love to meet the Champ!”
“No, not ‘Champ’. Cham Larringfass, the owner of the town’s boarding house.”
“Cool. Now I just need to figure out where to find Champ Larringfass,” Lucky Days answered, completely missing Rodrik’s correction.
Gwen sighed. “I’ll show her to the Ramblehouse,” she said. “I need to go back to the Longhouse for a bit before my watch anyway.”
“Alright! Let’s go!” Lucky Days said, before realizing something. “I almost forgot! One moment please.” She ran to retrieve Sakura-chan from Halgra, then grabbed Ruby and dragged her back on stage to perform their mandatory post-victory song and dance number. The singing was pretty good, but the dancing left a bit to be desired and drew heckling from the crowd. Lucky Days was completely oblivious to it, but her unwilling accomplice looked mortified.
“Poor Ruby,” Kurst said. Gwen couldn’t help but agree.
Thankfully, the song ended not long after and Lucky Days let the girl go, returning to Gwen. “Okay, let’s go meet the Champ.”
Gwen shook her head. “Follow me, then.”
“Cousin, it wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit less serious today,” Rodrik said. “It is a party, after all.”
Gwen gave her cousin a look. “It may be a party for you,” she said. “But I have work to do right now.”
While everyone else had been focused on the song, Halgra had approached Jazier, who was off by himself, glad to be away from the crowd. “An interesting match,” she said. “And my daughter seems happy, so I’ll overlook that little bit of mischief on your part.”
“Appreciated,” Jazier said. “I need no distractions on my search.”
“What are you looking for?” Halgra asked, her voice stern.
“My brother,” he said, his voice angry.
“Tell me more.”
“He stole something of mine, and one of his minions was persuaded to tell me that he had come this way.”
“Minions? Orcs?” Halgra asked, now in full Chief Defender mode.
Jazier shook his head. “Much worse, though he has been known to use them from time to time.”
“How long since you last saw him?”
“It has been years.”
“And you’re sure that he was coming out this way?”
“His minion was very certain, or a much better liar than he seemed to be.”
Halgra considered it. “Give me his description, and I’ll let my patrols know to keep an eye out for him.”
Jazier described his brother as Halgra took notes. “If they encounter Hashkaan, do not attempt to apprehend him. He is exceedingly dangerous.”
As they spoke, Rodrik and Kurst went to congratulate Kermit as well. They found him talking with Valbrand and Omast. “Kermit!” Rodrik said, extending his hand. “Good match. No hard feelings?”
Kermit shook his hand. “My friend here was telling me about something he calls ‘Long Island Iced Tea’.”
Rodrik looked to Omast. “Omast, are you drunk?”
“I had just a couple,” the guardsman admitted, hiccupping.
“You’ve been doing so well, too,” Rodrik said. “Come on, Omast.
Let’s go get you sobered up. Kurst, please take care of the rest of the festivities?”
“Of course,” his brother answered. “Speaking of which! It’s time for the next game!”
On the road to the Ramblehouse, Lucky Days was talking Gwen’s pointed ear off. “Wasn’t my pull great?” she asked, beaming.
“You were fine, but that wizard cheated.”
Lucky Days shrugged. “You have to follow the orders of the team captain.”
Gwen stopped and turned to look Lucky Days in the eye. “That was Ruby’s idea?” she asked, incredulous.
“Well, sort of, I guess? He asked if she wanted him to do something and she decided to trust him to do the right thing and we won, so it was probably the right thing.”
“I see…” Gwen answered, relieved that Ruby hadn’t deliberately decided to cheat and had simply trusted the wrong person.
The two young women arrived at the Ramblehouse and went in the unlocked front door. Inside, they found a red-headed halfling woman passed out at her desk. She reeked of alcohol. “We should let her sleep,” Lucky Days suggested.
Gwen shook her head. “Cham,” she said, clearing her throat.
“CHAM!” she said louder, startling the halfling awake.
“What?” the halfling asked, somehow managing to slur the simple word.
“You’re the Champ?!” Lucky Days asked excitedly. “Hi! I’m Lucky Days and I helped our team captain Ruby win the tug of war! I’m looking for Coach!”
The befuddled Cham Larringfass looked to Gwen for assistance. The half-elf just shrugged. “Who is Coach?” the halfling asked.
“Coach is Coach!” Lucky Days proclaimed enthusiastically. Behind her, Gwen just facepalmed.
“No, I mean, what’s his name?” Cham asked.
“OH!” Lucky Days said. “Why didn’t you ask that in the first place? Everyone else calls him Rodd Rigez.”
Cham looked through her guest register. “Sorry, no one here by that name.”
“He must not have gotten here yet,” Lucky Days said, crestfallen. Then she perked right up. “That’s okay! He’s not as fast as I am, so of course it’ll take him longer to get here.”
“Do you need a room in the meantime?” Cham asked. “I’ll give you half off the regular price for helping our little Ruby.” She sipped a bit from her cup.
“How much is that?”
Cham finished her drink. “The eff if I know,” she declared absentmindedly, grabbing her book. “Um, four silver?”
“Okay. Byyyeee!” she said sweetly, giving Gwen a hug before being led off to her room by the halfling, who was clearly not walking in a straight line.
When Cham returned, she found Gwen sniffing at her cup. “I was only going to have three,” the halfling said in her defense. “But that fourth one was just calling to me.”
“Is that so?” Gwen asked, her tone disapproving.
“‘Drink me, Cham!’ it said. ‘Drink me!’ What could I do?”
“I see…” Gwen said. “I should get going. I have to get ready for my watch.”
“Aww, I was hoping you’d have a drink with me,” Cham said.
“Thanks, but no,” Gwen answered, taking her leave.
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