by Ian Rodgers
“You know I’ll be back!” she shouted, shaking her fist at the gate.
“Mommy, why is that lady still trying to sneak into the peacock soldiers’ house?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.”
Dora bit back a growl of annoyance as she heard yet another comment from random tourists about her failed attempt to find the Avatar of Kuronos. She knew he had to be in there somewhere but hadn’t found a trace of him at all. She’d been caught sneaking around before she’d found much of anything, honestly.
“I’ll be back,” she vowed darkly, stomping off. Once she was a few blocks from the Legion’s compound, the tears she had been holding in threatened to spill out of her eyes, and she pressed her forehead against the brick wall in front of her.
“Damn it,” she whimpered softly. “I’ll never find him at this rate.”
She turned around and slid down the wall, cradling her face into her knees. She was broken and tired. Everything was going wrong.
“I thought things were supposed to get better when I came to Argyne,” she muttered.
“Yeah, that’s what they all say.”
Dora looked up sharply and saw a man in tattered rags and a moldy straw hat standing in front of her. He had a scraggly black beard, and his skin was an odd dark brown color, like a mix between an Earth Elf’s and a Val’Narashi Amazonian’s. He wore a wide, lopsided smile as he stared back at Dora.
“Um, hello,” she said slowly.
“Hello!” the vagabond said cheerfully, waving at her. He then pointed to the open spot next to her. “Mind if I sit down beside ya? This is my normal begging spot.”
“Oh! Um, sure, go ahead,” she said awkwardly, scooting over as the disheveled man slumped down next to her. He whipped off his hat and lay it on the ground next to him. Dora spotted tiny pointed ears on his head, making him a half-elf.
‘That might explain his skin tone,’ she mused. She then coughed a bit as the hobo’s smell assailed her nostrils.
“So, what’s a pretty thing like yourself doin’ here in my begging spot?” he asked after scratching himself. “Looking to get into the life yourself?”
“What? NO! I’m not a hobo!” she said hotly. “I’m just disappointed and sad and angry, not poor!”
“That’s how it starts,” the filthy man said knowingly with a wink and a nod. “Denial that they ain’t poor, just financially insecure. Then comes the selling of hair and furniture, and next thing ya know, yer eating rat fricassee with a couple o’ other bums!”
“Is that how it went for you?” she asked, feeling a bit of pity for the clearly deranged man.
“Nah, I got into the business of vagabonding when I decided I was tired of living the hoity-toity life. Oh, the parties I had in my palace, before I realized money brought me no happiness!” the man cackled.
“Right,” Dora said, not believe a word of it. “Well, I’ve got to go, my friends are probably waiting for me.”
She stood up, brushing some dirt off of her robes before reaching into a pocket and placing a silver coin in the madman’s hat. It was a lot of money, but she felt pity, and an urge to make someone’s day better than hers was going at the moment.
“Mighty kind of ya, ma’am!” the hobo said gratefully with a smile that showed off some missing teeth. “I’d tip my hat to ya, but it’s busy being a bank!”
She walked away, the crazy beggar’s laughter accompanying her.
“What a sad and strange man,” she muttered to herself. She then sighed and returned to the Crab Shack where her friends and pet snake were waiting for her.
Dora walked into the gaudy tourist trap lodgings and was immediately greeted by the sight that had assailed her the past two days. A part of her was envious of Tarn, who’d left the city yesterday. At least the elderly orc only had to experience this scene once.
“Welcome to the Crab Shack, where the crustaceans are served with butter and lemon whenever you want!”
“Enrai, you don’t have to do this everytime I walk in,” the half-orc groaned as she slapped her forehead in embarrassment. The Monk just grinned at her while wearing a tacky apron with several cute looking crabs on it.
“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it! I didn’t think I’d have this much fun being a waiter, but what do you know, anything can be fun when you get to eat free food afterwards!”
“For the love of Cynthia, why me?” she groaned, shaking her head in disbelief. “Where’s Ain? He’s usually the one to keep your exuberance in check. I swear, ever since we left the jungle and let you have your Fire mana back, you’ve been way too upbeat and peppy.”
“Oh, he’s with a customer,” Enrai said, his smile becoming strained. “You’ll never guess who it is.”
She raised an eyebrow at the Qwanese man’s expression, before turning her gaze towards the restaurant portion of the Crab Shack. Her eyes widened and she tensed up for a moment before forcing herself to relax.
“Her? Here? Really?” she asked incredulously.
“I was surprised too,” Enrai said. “Come on, let’s go say hello.”
The pair walked over to where Ain was. He was blushing helplessly next to a table that had a single customer sitting in it. Said customer was one Dora had not expected to see again.
“Amira?” Dora asked, surprised. “Is that you?”
The Saludan dancer they had met back in the Undead infested city of Rahmal’Alram smiled and waved.
“Dora! So good to see you again! I never would have imagined in a million years that we’d end up in the same place!”
“What are you doing here?” the Healer asked politely, trying to keep any hint of suspiciousness out of her tone.
The last time they’d seen Amira, Dora and Enrai had both felt she was hiding a lot of secrets. Rumors and second-hand information they’d obtained had pointed to her traveling in the company of one of Erafore’s most infamous men: Bane the Butcher. That she had vanished after the man who’d kidnapped the Bo Clan heir had been killed by Bane, his own employee, had raised a number of flags for them.
Though honestly, Dora and Enrai felt that they should have expected this after hearing that the wild orcs had had a run-in with the murderous half-elf. If Amira really was traveling with Bane, then naturally she should have been in the same area as him.
This was not a problem for Ain. The poor Grand Elf was completely smitten with the beautiful Saludan dancer. Neither Dora nor Enrai could convince the Spellsword of her relationship with the scarred half-elf. Given how vehemently Ain despised Bane, Dora wasn’t sure it was a wise idea to try.
“So, what are you here for?” Dora asked, taking a seat at Amira’s table.
“Well, the troupe and I just finished a stint up in Tashel,” she said with a winning smile. “Now we’re thinking of traveling to Val’Narash for a bit to see the sights.”
“And what about your, uh, ‘partner?’ Is he around?” Enrai asked, arms folded as he did his best not to glare at the woman. She just giggled at the Monk.
“Oh, he’s here with me. He dislikes crowds, though, so I doubt you’ll see him around,” Amira said, shooting a wink at the suspicious pair. She then turned her bright and seductive smile onto Ain. “It was good seeing you again. But I can’t take up all of your time. Best not keep the other customers waiting.”
Ain frowned and parted from her table reluctantly. Enrai slapped his back in a friendly gesture and led the lovestruck elf away, leaving Dora alone with Amira.
“Please don’t cause any trouble here,” Dora begged her. “I have enough problems right now on my own end. I can’t deal with, uh, your axe wielding friend.”
Still smiling, Amira nodded a brushed a strand of dark hair away from her eyes. “Don’t worry, Bane knows not to cause any commotions here. Getting on the bad side of the Legion and the Avatar would only bring problems later down the line.”
“You know the Avatar of Kuronos is here in the city too?” Dora gasped, before lowering her voice. The dancer nodded.
“Yes, Bane is aware. Used to know the guy before he became the Avatar, or so he claims. I know Bane, and he doesn’t have many friends. Just enemies.” Amira shook her head sadly.
Dora bit her lip. On the one hand, asking help from a mercenary who was infamous for killing every other person who hired him was a really bad idea. On the other hand, she had no leads of her own.
‘No, I can’t ask that man for help,’ she decided after thinking it over. ‘Owing a murderer like that a favor is the worst thing I could do, even if it does help me.’
She then sighed to herself. ‘But, if I can’t find the Avatar by the end of the week, I might not have any other choice but to ask for Bane’s help. Gods, I hope Enrai and Ain forgive me if I do that.’
“So, I hear they serve good crab here. Want some lunch? I’m paying,” Amira offered, and Dora thought about it before agreeing.
“Why not, I could always use more female friends,” she announced with a shrug. Besides, maybe if she was friends with the dancer, Bane would be less inclined to kill her!
∞.∞.∞
“Another failure,” Dora grumbled, arms folded as she stomped away from the Unchained Legion’s compound. Yesterday had been nice, and the half-orc had almost gotten over her failed attempt to get into the mercenaries’ base. Spending some girl-time with Amira had been fun and helped her unwind.
And thanks to some of the Saludan dancer’s advice, she had managed to sneak around the Legion’s HQ for twice as long compared to the last two tries. But she’d still been caught and thrown out!
“Lousy guards, all uppity and stupid… Just let me find him, damn you!” Dora growled to herself as she headed away from the base. Once again, she found herself near the area where she’d met the hobo last time.
Looking around, she spotted the ragged half-elf beggar already sitting cross-legged with his moldy straw hat in front of him. It had a few copper coins inside it, a half-eaten pear, and a dead beetle. Dora grimaced as she took a look at the contents of the hat.
Her approach did not go unnoticed, and the crazy vagabond waved enthusiastically at her.
“Ey, little missy! You’re back! And you said you didn’t want to be a hobo!”
“I still don’t!” she shouted in annoyance. “I was just thrown out – again! – by those stingy mercenaries!”
“Being stingy is, I believe, requirement number two for a mercenary, right after selling your body like a cheap hooker, but before knowing which jobs pay the best.”
Dora stared at the deranged half-elf before shrugging. “Sounds about right.” She glanced at the open space next to the beggar. “Mind if I sit down?”
In lieu of verbally responding, the hobo shifted a bit, letting her have some more room. She plopped down next to him with a sigh.
“So, if you don’t want to be a hobo, how about becoming a druggy?”
“No!” Dora gasped. “I’m a Healer, I don’t do drugs!”
“You sure? ‘Cause I know a guy, who knows a guy, who sells all the good stuff! Lifter, Scrape, Ichor, Heavenworm, even Collapse! You name it, he’s got it!”
“Yeah, no thanks,” Dora said, shaking her head in disgust. “I’ve seen what those do to people. Had to treat more than my fair share of addicts in the Cracked Land, and I never want to go through that myself.”
“Oh? So, yer’re a Cracker, then?”
“I’m from the Cracked Land, yes, but I was born and raised elsewhere,” Dora replied, feeling like she’d just been insulted, but wasn’t sure why.
“I could never live up there, ya know? No beaches worth a damn, and all they gots is dust instead o’ sand,” the hobo said easily. “Plus, all them slavers. Brrr! Nasty folk.”
He then turned to her with a winning smile. “So, what’d a nice girl like you do for a living up in the dusty wastes in the north?”
“Um, I worked as a Healer… for the Yellowmoon Menagerie,” Dora said softly, a hint of shame seeping into her voice.
“Ain’t them those guys that hunt monsters, catch ‘em, and sell ‘em?” the beggar asked.
“Yes, that’s them,” Dora answered, surprised that this random half-mad half-elf knew of her family.
“I hear the legionnaires grumbling about them sometimes,” the hobo admitted. “Since the Legion hunts monsters for a living, they get really touchy about other people doing their job elsewhere. They can’t stand adventurers, either. Bunch o’ hippo-crates.”
“I think you mean hypocrites,” Dora said.
“That too,” he said, waving her words off. They sat there for a while longer in silence before Dora asked,
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I was a slaver, too?”
“Hmm? Why would I do that?” the bum asked, confused.
“Well, I mean, the Menagerie also sold slaves at times,” Dora admitted. “And you said you hated slavers…”
“Meh, you ain’t no slaver, I can tell,” the filthy half-elf said with a dismissive grunt. “You worked with ‘em, but was not one of ‘em. There’s a difference.”
“So, you don’t think I’m scum?”
“Lady, scum are those who allow slavery to exist in the first place. Scum are those folks who laugh at the misery of others. Scum are people who judge without seeing or knowing. As for me? I’m just a simple man with simple pleasures. Non-moldy food to eat, a place to stay dry when the squalls come through, and a flat, non-bumpy spot to lie down on for sleeping. I don’t have time to care about people who aren’t evil.”
“That’s very wise,” Dora said, surprised, and touched. He really didn’t care at all who she was. To him, she was just another person.
The hobo winked at her. “I’m what them scholars call ‘street smart.’ So, what’s yer name? You can call me Grub. All the other beggars, hobos, and voices in my head call me that!”
“Dora Halfmoon,” she introduced. “Nice to meet you.”
She fished around her pockets for another silver coin, before tossing it into the half-elf’s crumbling hat.
“I’ve got to go. Have a nice day!”
Grub waved happily as she left.
∞.∞.∞
“Gah! I’ll get past you! I swear it!” Dora snarled, fighting against the strong grip of a muscular dwarf as he and another guard dragged her out of the Unchained Legion’s compound.
“I’ll admit, you almost got past us with that new trick of yours. Using the Calm spell to make the other guards and legionnaires unconcerned so you could sneak by? Brilliant. But not good enough,” the dwarf said, complimenting her even as he helped toss her out the gate.
“And don’t come back again! I know we keep saying this, but we mean it!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dora huffed, waving his words off even as her mind began to concoct new plans for sneaking through their defenses.
“We’re serious, lady! The General has given us orders to start using force if you don’t comply!”
She turned her head and shot the legionnaire a glare. “Try me! I’ll find who I’m looking for no matter what you say!”
She then stomped off, angry. Her path led her once more to the spot where she’d met the vagabond named Grub. He wasn’t there this time, but she had a feeling he’d be around again, so she leaned against the wall to wait.
Her assumption was proven true a few minutes later when the dirty half-elf appeared. However, Dora’s keen eyes latched onto the way he walked with a limp while also clutching his left arm.
“Grub! Are you alright?!” she cried, rushing over to him. The vagabond looked at the half-orc in surprise as she began to fuss over him, checking his wounds and making sure they weren’t as bad as she feared.
“This isn’t anything to be concerned about, Dora. Don’t worry, I heal quickly,” Grub protested.
“I don’t care if you regenerate entire lost limbs in seconds! You’re getting a check-up whether you like it or not!” Dora declared.
She forced the half-elf to sit down on the ground in his usual spot so she
could examine him more closely. Her magic ran through his body without a hitch, yet something caused her to frown.
“You have a lot of mana,” she said, surprised. “More than either Ain or Enrai. Those are my friends, by the way. One is an elfish Spellsword, the other is a Monk from Distant Qwan. They’re about B-rank in terms of fighting potential. Yet you blow them both out of the water!”
“I’ve always had a big heart and a bigger soul,” Grub joked before wincing as Dora poked a bruised patch on his side. “Oi, watch where ya stab yer fingers!”
“Sorry, just making sure your ribs are not too badly damaged. They’re intact, thankfully. Sheesh, your whole body is a bundle of bruises! What happened to you?” Dora asked.
“I ran into some bad folks who thought they run the slums,” Grub said, spitting to the side in disgust. “Idiotic fools, they picked a fight with me in the Palmtop Quarter. That place is run by the Red Torrent Gang. They’ll get what’s coming to ‘em.”
“I didn’t think gangs would be so prevalent in Argyne. I mean, the city is so clean and friendly, you’d never think there was crime, or even a poor neighborhood,” the Healer commented.
“The brightest flame casts the longest shadow, and the pretty face hides a twisted soul. Never trust what things seem to be on the surface, because monsters come in all shapes and sizes,” Grub said darkly.
Dora ran her glowing hands over his chest before smiling. “All done! Your bruises are healed and your body is back to full health!”
“Thank you kindly, miss, I don’t know how I’ll be able to repay… Look out!” Grub suddenly dove at her and knocked her onto the ground.
“Whoa, what’s going on?!” Dora cried out.
“Stay back, I’ll keep ya safe!” Grub shouted, ignoring her as he took up an aggressive stance in front of something that had snuck up behind the half-orc.
“What in Cynthia’s name is happening?” Dora demanded, sitting up and looking at the hobo in annoyed confusion. She heard a familiar hiss, and relaxed.
“Careful! A Serpent of Aril somehow snuck inside the city! Don’t worry, I won’t let it hurt ya!” Grub declared, bravely interposing himself in front of the madness-inducing snake.