“That was unpleasant,” said Terran, tapping on his chest to exhale the cold.
Zara fell to her knees, and a flood of liquid exited into the grass. “Augh.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she rose to her feet and pointed her finger at him. “You even mention this to Flynn and I’ll fill your hammock with dead tree rats.”
“Not a word,” said Terran, holding up his hands.
Luna scrunched up her furry face at the both of them. “What are you two babbling about?”
Zara stretched her face in surprise. “It felt like I got stuck on rinse cycle.”
The gray lynx sauntered ahead. “I guess we lynxes are good travelers.”
“Ick, what is that smell?” said Terran, wrinkling his nose. “Smells like a manure farm.”
“Also known as a cow pasture,” said Zara. “But at least it’s an honest smell.”
They stood on a road heading to a walled town that looked like it held a few thousand people. Farms and pasture surrounded the town, while a small rise of mountains extended over the city to the east. The forest was familiar even though he was sure he’d never seen it before. Unlike Salt Luck, this city felt old, as if it’d been around since the early years of Kingmakers. Not far from their location, next to a thatched barn, a dozen cows milled about while a man with light green skin and a black beard shoveled hay into their pen.
“This should be a nice change from skulking around forests and rocks,” said Zara, cracking her knuckles using her thumb. “Maybe we can find a nice tavern fight. I haven’t knocked anyone out in a while.”
“We’re not here to brawl,” said Terran as they neared the guards at the gate. “In fact, we need to keep our heads down, find the adorii elf with the information we need, and get the hell out. No getting involved with local politics or problems.”
“Aren’t we a bowl of dead preacher bugs,” said Luna sardonically.
“Dead preacher bugs?” asked Terran.
Luna sighed. “Nutritious but lacking any excitement. There’s really not a lot of meat on them but they’re fun to catch, hear the tiny screams when I crunch down on their carapace.”
Both Terran and Zara stared at their furry companion with wide eyes. “Tiny screams?”
The sauntering lynx lifted a single shoulder. “It might just be air escaping from their shells.”
“Halt, travelers! What brings you to the town of Dagrath?” said the first guard, a petite dark-skinned woman with an enormous axe on her back.
“Nice weapon,” said Zara with a speculative glance at the woman half her size.
The guard showed a feral grin, sporting long canines. “Thanks, but I don’t get enough chances to test the edge. Hate to see a sharp blade go unused.”
“My kinda gal,” said Zara as she caressed her own red braid hanging over her shoulder.
“Zara…”
The tall redhead grumbled. “Right. Sorry. We’re travelers here on business.”
“From Gneiss Glen,” added Terran.
“Two humans and a pet cat from a settlement of Rock Leaf Elves,” said the guard. “Not the strangest visitors we’ve had in Dagrath.”
“I’m not a cat,” said Luna, holding out a paw with extended claws. “I suggest you remedy that description.”
“Sorry,” said the guard with an eyebrow raised. “A talking cat.”
Luna bared her teeth while Terran and Zara chuckled.
“May we enter?” asked Terran.
“Of course,” the guard said with a shrug. “I’m supposed to just let you go through, but it’s more fun to ask questions. We’re a trader city, so it wouldn’t be very good for business if we kept people out. Just don’t cause trouble, spend your coin freely at the vendors or gladiator matches, if that’s your sort of thing, and don’t wander around after dark, though I suppose no one’s going to mess with you three.”
The guard was clearly looking at Zara, who had an equally interested glint to her eyes.
“Thank you,” said Terran, dragging the redheaded berserker with him. “We’ll keep our eyes peeled.”
“Wonder what that’s about,” said Luna.
“Zara’s smitten,” said Terran, smirking at his friend, who was still glancing backwards at the gate.
“No, the don’t wander around after dark,” said Luna.
“Crime, thieves, it’s a town, so no surprise, but let’s stay out of trouble and find a tavern. We can ask around about Gold Eyes after that,” said Terran.
The streets of Dagrath were filled with many races: humans, dwarves, gnomes—all of the friendlier races that Terran had encountered—but others too. He was surprised when he saw a pair of barghast in heavy plate wandering down a side street, but remembered they were mercenaries. The patch on their shoulders, a red banner, marked them as members of the Crimson Brigade, the very group he’d defeated at the fortress. He hoped they didn’t hold grudges, but veered his friends away from their path to avoid finding out.
On the next street, he found a Crag Troll working in an open-aired blacksmith shop, hammering away at a glowing hunk of metal. Even from the cobblestone street, Terran could feel the oppressive heat of the forge. There were no clear business or residential areas, which made navigating difficult, especially because the streets didn’t seem to follow a logical order, and had been created between buildings as they were constructed. Some were wide avenues, and others narrow alleys, but one thing was consistent with all of them—horse droppings required constant vigilance.
“This place is a maze,” said Terran, scratching the back of his neck as he looked around, his lips bunched to the side. “Going to take forever to find an inn.”
Before Terran could stop her, Zara reached out, grabbing a bearded gnome by his lumpy backpack and lifting him into the air. The gnome hadn’t noticed that his feet were no longer touching, and still moved, until Zara brought him around to face her.
“Where’s the nearest inn or tavern?” she asked.
The gnome had a white beard. His eyes went wide and he shot out an arm pointed down a side street.
“Thank you,” said Zara, setting down the gnome gently, before patting him on the head. “Was that so hard?”
“I was scoping out the landscape,” said Terran. “I like to get my bearings.”
“You don’t like to ask for directions, is more like it,” said Zara as they approached the inn.
Luna sidestepped a horse carriage. “This is true.”
“Traitor,” said Terran as he looked up at the sign on the tavern and inn, which had a strange oblong golden fruit on its board. “The Golden Kumquat. Interesting.” Before they entered, he said, “Remember, we’re here to find a place to stay, no trouble. Get in, find Gold Eyes, get out.”
As soon as they stepped into the smoky tavern, his stomach twisted. A group of hard men and women in dusty gray leathers, wielding various bludgeoning objects, were crowded around the front desk, where a young human girl in a blue dress looked cowed by her oppressors. In the tavern proper, the two patrons—an old farmer and a beardless dwarf—were busy staring at their mugs rather than make eye contact.
“What you lookin’ at?” said the lead thug, revealing a gold tooth as he grinned and pointed a dagger at them. He gestured with his weapon towards the seats. “Go sit down and stay out of the way of the Dust and you won’t get hurt. Flinty Tim, here, is just transacting a business deal, though our sweet little Miss isn’t being so cohabitative.”
The slightly cross-eyed woman behind Flinty Tim muttered, “Cooperative.”
“Yeah, cooperative, that’s what I said.” He gestured with the dagger. “Go on, get moving.”
Under her breath, Zara said, “You were saying about not getting involved?”
“Hush,” said Terran, pushing up a fake grin as he spoke louder. “We’ll take our seats.”
The girl, briefly hopeful, looked crestfallen by their decision. Luna gave him a strange look. Not that he needed the admonishment—his stomach churned with r
egret.
“That’s what I thought,” said Flinty Tim, turning back to the girl at the counter. “Now, I don’t know where your mommy went, but you better hand over your prophylactic money.”
“Protection,” said cross-eyed girl.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” He grunted. “Or this establishment will no longer be serving.”
The girl bunched up her lips, gesturing towards the bar. “Does it look like we’re serving crowds here? The Tavern Killer is killing our business literally. If you’re going to take money for protection, where’s the protection?”
Flinty Tim didn’t know what to make of her retort, and his dirty face screwed up with indecision. “That’s not how it works. Let me speak to your mommy.”
“My mommy is trying to buy some ale because we’re not much of a tavern if we can’t serve it, even if our customers are afraid to come out,” said the girl, crossing her arms.
“I ain’t takin' no for an answer,” said Flinty Tim, reaching out and grabbing the girl’s shoulder.
Terran, who’d almost sat down, heard a grumble from Zara. He let out a sigh, realizing that he couldn’t just sit and watch them rough up the tavern owner’s daughter. When he stood back up, Zara reached towards her axe.
“We’re getting involved,” he said, holding up a scolding finger. “But no killing. Let me try something first.”
“No killing?” muttered Zara incredulously. “Why did you even bring me?”
The group of thugs turned as Terran approached. Flinty Tim stuck the tip of his dagger into his mouth, using it like a toothpick. After a quick flick, he examined the blade.
“Just couldn’t keep your nose outta trouble,” he said, squaring off with Terran.
There were ten thugs and only three of them, but it wasn’t the odds that worried Terran. He didn’t want their first day in Dagrath to end in death, or the destruction of a place of business. He didn’t know about the city government, but it was sure to cause them problems. Terran reached beneath his tunic, wrapping his fingers around the rose crystal hanging by a chain.
“You really don’t want to bother this nice girl,” sang Terran, waving his hand at them in a dismissive gesture as he subtly cast the spell Silky Suggestion.
A rose haze formed over Flinty Tim’s eyes as his jaw went slack.
[You have increased the skill Subterfuge]
Skill: Subterfuge 2 (CHA)
Impressive. You charmed an idiot savant without the savant part. Might worry about his friends, though.
“I don’t want to bother this nice girl,” said Flinty Tim.
“Hey,” said the cross-eyed woman behind him, scowling and pulling out a long, wicked knife. “What ya do to Tim?”
Terran held up his hands. “Helped him see reason?”
He’d been hoping to resolve the situation without fighting, but when the old farmer and the beardless dwarf went running out of the tavern, Terran knew his ploy hadn’t worked. This became especially apparent when a right hook caught him across the jaw.
Chapter Five
As Terran picked himself off the sawdust-covered floor, an earsplitting rage scream froze everyone in their spots. The thugs looked diminished before the redheaded berserker as she reached back with her crimson demon arm to unleash the enormous axe. Terran was certain she could wipe out the group of them with a few short swings.
“Zara, no killing,” he said from his knees.
The veins on her forehead pulsed with anger. She looked like she was ready to bench-press a boulder. The war going on between Zara and her arm lasted a few seconds as her fingers gripped the handle—resulting in the thugs stepping backwards—then unclenched. She did this twice, resulting in a little do-si-do, until the sensible part of Zara won out.
“Damn you, Terran,” she said, pumping her arms and squeezing her hands into fists.
The realization they wouldn’t have to face her axe brought smiles to the thugs, who brandished their weapons with glee—all except Flinty Tim, who looked like he’d been shot full of happy juice, staring longingly at the wall as if it were his new crush.
Terran blocked a blow from a shorter, dirty-faced thug with a truncheon, but caught a jab from a curved blade that would have opened up his shoulder except for the whisperweave tunic. The thug looked equally surprised by the lack of squirting blood and stared at his blade long enough for Terran to put a boot to his chest, sending him into the group behind him. This delayed the oncoming rush for a moment, giving him a chance to yank the crystalline staff from his back.
Protecting his left flank, Zara disarmed the cross-eyed woman, easily twisting the short sword out of her hands, turning the deadly edge towards the thug. As the tip of the blade sped towards her opponent’s chest, Terran yelled out, “No killing!” and Zara dropped the blade as if it was hot. The thug, seeing his opportunity, pulled out a dagger and lunged at the redhead, slicing open her left bicep.
“Grrr!”
Zara broke a chair over the cross-eyed woman, leaving her crumpled on the ground as three more filled in the gap.
“Don’t kill them,” said Terran, barely deflecting a club strike with his staff, while Luna was chewing on the leg of a screaming thug on his right flank.
“But how?” she exclaimed, turning towards him with clear frustration, looking more like the girl from before Kingmakers than the fierce berserker she’d become.
“Just give ’em a love tap,” said Terran.
Distracted by the conversation, he missed a block, catching a blow to his ribs. He didn’t hear a crack, but knew there’d be a healthy bruise. Thwack! A second thug smashed a whiskey bottle on his head, showering him in potent alcohol. After shaking away the dizziness, Terran wiped the glass from his shoulders and swung his staff in a wide arc, giving himself room to catch his bearings. The blow to the head had put black spots in his vision.
Zara put up her fists like a boxer, weaving back and forth as five thugs surrounded her. The snarl on her lips as she dodged their blows was a marker of her rage control. When a thug lunged in, leaning too far forward, Zara jabbed with her left fist, catching him right in the forehead.
“Love tap!” she exclaimed as the blow landed. The thug crumpled like a marionette with his strings cut. “Ha!”
Zara looked like she’d just learned to ride a bike, and for the rest of the fight, continued to shout, “Love tap!” with each blow, punishing the thugs with her granite-like fists.
“Love tap! Love tap! Love tap!” she cried as she threw haymakers in all directions, until the thugs were either unconscious or lying on the sawdust-covered floor moaning. Zara stood over the mess with her hands on her hips like a triumphant hero. She blew on her fists for good measure, placing them in imaginary holsters when she was finished.
“Flinty Tim. Take your people out of this tavern and don’t come back,” said Terran to the only thug standing. He responded with a delirious grin and started helping his gang out of the door.
When everyone was gone, Luna looked up at the big redhead. “Love tap?”
“Don’t mock, it worked,” said Zara.
“Thank you,” said the innkeeper’s daughter as she returned to the desk, eyeing the broken chairs and bottles from the fight. “I think.”
“Do they cause you a lot of problems?” asked Terran.
“We pay a monthly protection fee, which normally isn’t an issue, but the Tavern Killer has frightened away our customers.” The girl blinked. “I’m Isabell.”
“Sorry, very rude of me. I’m Terran, and these are my companions, Zara and Luna.”
“A gray lynx!” said Isabell. “You are a very rare and wonderful creature, aren’t you?”
“Finally,” purred Luna with half-lidded eyes. “Someone who recognizes greatness.”
“You’re all very tough,” said Isabell. “Especially you, Miss Zara.”
Zara gave the girl a wink as she leaned on the desk. “I bet that means you’ll be giving us a discount.”
“I’m sorry,
that won’t be possible,” said a woman who was clearly Isabell’s mother by the resemblance and matching blonde hair. She eyed the destruction. “As much as I appreciate the help, we just can’t offer free rooms, or even a discount at this moment.”
“That’s okay,” said Terran, pulling out his pouch and setting a few coins on the desk. “We don’t mind paying, but we do hope you can help us.”
“I’m Della,” said the woman, picking up a silver coin and cocking her mouth to the side. “This is an old coin. Where do you hail from?”
“Gneiss Glen.”
Della whistled softly. “Isn’t that where the old Rock Leaf empire was seated?”
“Still is,” said Terran. “I’m the leader. We’re in Dagrath for information and to set up new trade routes.”
The innkeeper had the wary gaze of someone who’d been through a lot. She sighed. “I can help you with what information I know, but I doubt it’s going to be helpful. I try to keep my head down in Dagrath.”
“The Tavern Killer,” said Terran. “What or who is that?”
“A serial killer,” said Della, lips curled towards the floor. “Attacks customers late at night when the bars close. Put a crimp in all our business. I barely scraped together enough coin for last month’s interest payment, and keeping up is becoming impossible. If someone could take care of finding this asshole it would be great, but the local watch don’t care enough to put much effort into stopping him.”
You have been offered a quest: Stop the Tavern Killer.
At the very least it’ll be a chance for Zara to let out her true rage.
“That might be something we can check into while we’re here in town,” said Terran.
He’d hoped to see this brightened Della’s outlook, but she continued to frown as she flipped the silver coin over in one hand and stroked the blonde braid that hung over her shoulder. She had rosy cheeks and kind, sad eyes.
Champion's Prophecy: A LitRPG Adventure Page 6