by Justin Wayne
The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings,
Justin Vaquera
Copyright 2012 by Justin Vaquera
For my family and friends; thanks for putting up with me.
Pronunciation Guide:
Characters:
Aegis: A-giss
Asylann: Uh-seal-in
Balin: B-al-inn
Blaide: Blay-d
Blaine: Blay-n
Bryn: Br-inn
Cancer: Can-sir
Chester: Chess-turr
Cleave Rend: Clee-v R-in-d
Cuke Barleybeard: K-you-k Bar-lee-beer-d
Dirringyr: Deer-in-jurr
Dradewen: Draid-win
Drell: J-rail
Dren: Jr-in
Dunawar: Done-uh-wahr
Durgen: Der-jin
Ebony: Eh-buh-knee
Ellen: El-in
Garren: G-air-in
Garth: Garr-th
Graham: G-ram
Grim: Gr-imm
Griphon: Griff-in
Heller: Hell-er
Heller Grindstone: Hell-er Gr-eye-nd-stow-n
Horsey: H-or-see
Ivory: Eye-vor-ee
Jeanette: Jin-et
Jerr: J-air
Jiff: J-if
Krew: Kr-oo
Mateo: Muh-tay-oh
Merlon: M-air-lawn
Natalia: Nuh-tally-uh
Neirk Kingfeller: Near-k Key-ng-fell-ur
Norsd: N-or-st
Outsider: Out-sigh-derr
Peter: Pee-tur
Reginald Quadrillionus: Rej-i-nuld Kwuh-drill-e-in-us
Reiin: Rain
Robaine: Row-bane
Rodge: Raw-j
Saleane: Suh-lean
Scorn: Sk-or-n
Shogul: Show-gull
Siln: Sill-n
Tagvik: Tag-vick
Tenn: T-in
Thom/Thomulus: Tawm/Tawm-yuh-luss
Thomein: Tawm-ine
Toric: Tore-ick
Ulgvhen: Olg-v-inn
Ulvet: Ol-vet
Uvrikh: Oov-rick
Valhus: V-al-huss
Welter: Well-ter
Locations:
Briggand Sails: Brig-end S-ails
Cain Sander: K-ane San-dur
Delvin: D-ail-vin
Drezzenbaijan: J-rez-in-by-jon
Dweanther: D-we-an-thur
Gilded Lily: Gill-did Lil-lee
Journ: J-or-n
Pilgrimage Pass: Pill-grim-i-j Pass
Ridge Country: R-ij Cun-tree
Rusk: Ruh-sk
Shadowverse: Sh-a-dow-vur-s
Tempest Bowl: Tim-p-is-t Bow-l
Verillex: V-air-ill-ex
Vexus: V-ex-us
Noteworthy Items:
Axion: (a long metal staff with an axe head on each end) Ax-e-in
Cince: (a golden and silver currency) S-in-ts
Darkbane: (enchanted dagger) D-arc B-ain
Dirge: (a Shadowverse troll) Dur-j
Gurl: (carnivorous, amphibious birds) G-ear-l
Mordose: (a dog-like, quadrupedal reptile) More-doe-s
Skyrn: (a reptilian, bipedal creature) S-kur-n
Prologue:
Merlon walked down the street quickly, wishing to escape the bitter cold that had settled in the small trading town of Journ. He stepped inside the small pub he had gone to for decades and shook the chill from his bones near the fire. The keeper recognized his most loyal customer and brought him over a pint of warm ale.
“On the house,” he said as he set the mug on the polished oak table with a clink. “This winter’s goin’ to be a rough ‘un.”
Merlon threw him a grateful glance as he gulped down the invigorating brew. Instantly he could feel the warmth returning to his limbs. The pint was empty before he set it down with a satisfied sigh. “Thank ye’ for the pint, Garth. Twas exactly what I be needin’.”
Garth shrugged nonchalantly to accept the praise in his usual stoic way. The old dwarf had no need for compliments to know his secret recipe was great; he’d had three human lifetimes to perfect it. He carried the depleted glass past his counter to the keg while Merlon wiped the foam from his thick, salt and pepper beard.
It was then that the door opened and unleashed the outside’s torrent of winter. The fireplace flared to life as new air filled the room, throwing a homey glow across the tavern and its inhabitants. Merlon looked up from his hands to see the newcomer but saw no one enter even as the door closed. He turned in his chair and scanned the crowd for a face he didn’t recognize but found none in the dimly lit room as the fire settled back to its leisurely smolder.
Something in the back of Merlon’s mind didn’t sit right with him, but Garth returned before he could give it too much thought.
“A fresh new pint for ye’ just beggin’ to be drank.” Merlon nodded his thanks and made his mind to savor this glass but found it drained in a single tilting again.
“Either ye’ need to be gettin’ some bigger mugs, or I need to be bringin’ me own barrel.” Merlon laughed and slapped his belly which shook happily. “So how’s business been, me ol’ friend? The Rusty Axe looks a bit emptier than usual.”
Garth nodded slowly and took a sip of his own ale. “’Fraid so. Journ just isn’t the necessary trade stop it used to be. Most travelers skip us completely in favor of taking the trails to Rusk instead of the hills here.” He paused to take another gulp and sucked in a breath between his whiskers. “Can’t say I blame ‘em. The area’s gettin’ dangerous as of late. Have you heard of the recent string of disappearances?”
Merlon shook his head and leaned forward, elbows on the table, intrigued. He noted the cautious look in Garth’s eyes as he looked around the room before continuing.
“All ‘round Journ, people have been vanishing. First it was the occasional visitor; no one paid it much heed. Most folks just pass through anyways. Then a few tendays ago, Lorn, the owner of the inn across the street was gone. I came by his place to give ‘em a batch of my new brew when I see’s his door is open wide in the middle of the night. So—“He cut off as someone walked past the table and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Excccccecelent ales as is always, er, uh, Garth. See ya’ tomorra’.” The man slurred and smiled warmly with blank eyes.
“Sober I hope, eh, Rodge?” He asked the drunken man. Rodge waved and left, letting in the cold as he stumbled out of the room laughing. Garth shook his head and took another swig.
“As I was saying, so I go inside after his door’s open, and I find the place empty. Just completely wiped down and not a single speck o’ dust to show someone had ever been ‘ere.”
Merlon realized his mouth was slightly ajar and blinked several times. “That musta’ been quite the scare.”
“Ye’ bet the Mountain Father’s beard it was! I start feelin’ somethin’ creepin’ up on me, so I turns around real quicklike and find there’s nothin’ there ‘cept a pair of footprints leadin’ outta’ town. If I’d had a few pints in me I’d of gone after ‘em, but lookin’ back on it I think it’s better I didn’t.”
They sat in silence for a moment, letting their minds wander and fill in their own line of what transpired. Garth broke the silence a few minutes later as he realized the mood of the entire room had changed.
“I think we have ourselves a few eavesdroppers.” He muttered to Merlon under his breath. “I think it best we be changin’ the subject.”
The younger dwarf nodded and looked about the room. “I should be gettin’ back anyway. Don’t want the missus to get to worryin’.”
Garth raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Ye’ aint married, ye ol’ fool. Ye’ sure yer
tolerance for the firedrink aint lessened with ol’ age?” Merlon chuckled in response and pushed his chair back. Standing, he shook Garth’s rough hand and pushed his chair in.
“I was talkin’ ‘bout me mule, Jessi.” He laughed as he walked his friend to the bar and laid down a shilling at Garth’s protest. “I know, I know, but times are tough all ‘round. Ye’ need the money and I need the drink. We’ll keep each other in business.” He waved and with a deep breath of the smoky air, walked out into the frigid world of Journ’s winter.
With the howling winds roaring around him in gusts of snow, he kept his head low, trusting his beard to keep his face warm but not wanting his eyes to get burned. As such, he soon noticed that his coin purse was missing. He cursed as he realized he had left it on Garth’s counter.
“Thank the heavens he’s my oldest friend or I’d be poor as a blind orc trying to mine silver.” He turned back, no more than half a block from the pub, and grimaced as he walked against the wind instead of with it. Frost clung to his beard until it looked white with age and his boots were heavy with compacted snow. He walked beneath the balcony, shook the snow from his tunic and kicked the porch’s corner to break free of the ice that clung to his feet. Satisfied, he reached out for the doorknob and found the door already ajar. Merlon stepped inside and felt his stomach drop as his eyes roamed the room.
The room he had visited for decades.
The room he had just left not fifteen minutes earlier.
The room now completely devoid of anything not part of the structure.
The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings