The Dragons Bane

The next day dawns all too early for Seldor and Nordok. After a month of travel, and no ale along the way, last night’s drinks have left the pair with pounding headaches. Mintock and Clernon knock on their doors to rouse them.

“Please, you don’t have to bang so loud! I’m up! I’m up!” Mintock and Clernon look at each other conspiratorially and bang even harder on the doors. “It’s time to rise and shine” they say loudly, and then bolt for the stairs and breakfast.

“That’ll teach them to drink too much,” laughs Clernon as they sit down at an empty table in the common room.

“Yes, it serves them right! Did you hear Nordok fall down the stairs last night?”

“Yes, I just hope Freedar doesn’t get mad and throw the whole lot of us out.”

“Nay, my father wasn’t mad,” says Timora, coming up to the table. “After a long trip through the snow with the caravan, he’s more than understanding about that sort of thing. Just as long as it doesn’t become a habit, mind you.”

“We’ll see that it doesn’t. Make sure you tell your father that, please. We enjoy his cooking too much,” replies Mintock with a smile.

“I didn’t see you around last night, any reason in particular?” inquires Clernon.

“Father won’t let me out of the kitchen past suppertime, says it’s not proper for me to be out here with men that are drinking and carrying on.”

“Your father is a wise and responsible man.”

“Thankyou. Now, what’ll it be for breakfast? We have eggs, sausage, ham, meat pies, several different cakes, and almost anything else you might want.”

“Eggs, ham, and coffee for me, please” replies Mintock.

“And I’ll have eggs, sausage, bread, and coffee, please.”

Just then the other two come down the stairs, their movements careful but steady.

“How are we feeling this morning? Ready for a nice big meal?” asks Mintock, with an innocent smile.

“Just coffee for now, please” says Seldor with a groan.

“Same here,” replies Nordok.

As the two sit down and Timora leaves to place their orders, Clernon notices her shyly glancing at Nordok. He can’t help thinking to himself about the joys of young love, being a man approaching thirty all too soon. Seldor’s complaint jolts him out of his reverie.

“You two are a pair of jolly jokers this morning, pounding on our doors like that.”

“Really. A fine time for you two to develop a sense of humor,” moans Nordok.

“What, us? Pound on your door?” says Clernon, hiding a smile.

“Ha, ha. How about some help, I’m sure you have a healing spell for hangovers,” asks Nordok.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do, it’s called ‘don’t drink so much’,” laughs Clernon.

“I hope you two paid the bill last night, I don’t think either one of you want a fight with Freedar this morning” asks Mintock with a grin.

Nordok, beginning to look guilty, is relieved to hear Seldor respond with “Yes, I took care of it.”

“And with a nice tip, to boot. Best tip father has had in many a fortnight. Father said these two drinks here are for the hangover he’s sure you two have. Guaranteed to cure what ails you. And here’s a pot of coffee and some mugs for you gentlemen. The food will be right out.”

After Timora returns to the kitchen, Clernon comments on their behavior of the previous night. “Well, I guess you two didn’t embarrass us after all. Therefore, breakfast will be Mintock’s and my treat.”

“Wait a minute, I thought breakfast was included in the room charge,” replies Nordok.

“He’s quicker than I thought this morning, eh, Mintock?” And the two burst out laughing until Seldor and Nordok, finding their humor contagious, join in. They are still laughing when Timora brings their breakfast out.

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“Now that we have eaten, and you two are feeling better, it is time to decide on a plan of action for each of us for the day,” says Mintock.

“Well, my first order of business is to see to our mounts. I promised Killian I would take care of them first thing this morning. He advised me to have them moved to the east stables. After that I thought we were each going to our guild houses to introduce ourselves.”

“That’s the plan. Don’t forget to check the board for an existing party to join,” Clernon reminds them.

“Let’s go, daylight’s burning,” says Mintock.

“Meet back here for lunch at midday, ok?” asks Clernon.

“Sounds good.” “See you then.” “Ok.”

The four soon-to-be adventurers depart the Blood Moon. Nordok goes with Seldor out the gate to see to the horses. Clernon and Mintock proceed toward the church and the tower, respectively.

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The church is a large structure, obviously meant to hold several hundred people at a time. The entire front of the first floor of the building, after ascending some dozen steps, is doors. A solitary disciple stands outside, obviously on duty to help those in need.

As Clernon approaches, the disciple bows low in greeting. “How may I help you? My name is Redon. It is my duty to assist any who would seek the wisdom of the Mother Tree.”

Clernon displays his holy symbol, thus identifying himself as a cleric. “I wish an audience.”

The disciple is more than a little surprised at the appearance of an unknown cleric. “One moment, please, while I see who is available. You may wait inside.” He holds the door open for Clernon, and after Clernon enters, the disciple ascends a staircase off to one side of the entry hall.

Clernon, left to himself, proceeds to the front of the cathedral where he kneels in prayer before the altar of the Mother Tree. A priest comes to stand behind him, politely waiting for Clernon to finish his prayer.

After Clernon finishes praying, he stands and turns to the resident priest. “Hello, my name is Clernon.”

“I am Clancy, it is good to meet you.”

“I have just arrived with the caravan from Three Forks, but am from Solar, initially.”

“And what brings you so far north, if I might ask?”

“I, and my fellow companions, are seeking to become adventurers.”

“Ah, I see. Then you are here, I presume, to join our church?”

“Yes.”

“Well, our doors are always open to new members. Won’t you come upstairs and meet the others?”

“I would be honored.”

The two priests retire upstairs to meet the other priests and discuss church affairs and news from the south.

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The Tower of the Mages is well named. It rises 100 feet in the air, and is but ten feet thick. Only the power of magic could keep such a structure standing. The tower seems to be made from one solid piece of semi-translucent marble, not a single break or crack is visible on its surface. There is a single small door at ground level, barely big enough for a large man to fit through.

Mintock, turning the knob, opens the door and enters. The room on the other side is quite large, probably 50 feet across and circular. There are four other doors equally spaced around the perimeter. One door is white, one red, and the other black, one for each of the disciplines of magic.

The fourth door is marked with a sword and a wand, crossed, over a flask, indicating that it is the magic shop. A wizened old man sits behind a desk in the center of the room. “How may I help you, young wizard?”

“My name is Mintock. I have just arrived with the caravan and wish to become a member of the Guild of Mages here in CrossRoads Castle.”

“You may proceed.” And the wizened old wizard motions Mintock through the white door, having already ascertained the calling of the wizard.

Mintock finds himself in a room equal in size to the first, but this one contains a clerk and many doors. The clerk asks Mintock a series of questions, while a quill records his responses, moving with great speed across a parchment with a will of its own. After the clerk is satisfied, an acolyte is summoned.

“Norbert, this is Mintock. Please show him to a practice room, and then fetch Mida. Mintock, Mida will be your instructor, please go through each of your spells, it is required that we may judge your capabilities for training purposes. When you are done, Mida will show you around. And the Master may also wish to see you before the day is done.”

Norbert directs Mintock to another room. The practice room is considerably larger, maybe 200 feet across and circular. “You may be seated while I let Mida know you are here.” Looking around, Mintock spots a desk and chair, as well as a pedestal. Other than that, the room appears empty.

Within a few moments, Mida enters. Mida is a woman in her late thirties with a no-nonsense air about her. “My name is Mida, I am one of the instructors who teach first through fourth level mages. I require absolute attention to my instructions and to the spell that you are casting.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good. This is a standard Practice Room, all spells can be cast here in complete safety, and you may cast them as often as is required. The normal restrictions governing number of spells cast per day and the memorization of said spells does not apply in here. Please place your spellbook on the Pedestal of Spell Giving.”

Mintock does as asked and immediately he knows how to cast all of the first-degree spells that are in his tome, even the new ones he recently acquired from the dead mage.

“We will start with your Fiery Hands spell.”

Mintock casts the requested spell. Stretching forth his hands, he causes jets of flame to shoot forth from them for several feet in front of him.

“Good. Now use your Missile spell to hit the moving target.”

At her command, a small red ball begins to trace a random path through the air about 30 feet away. Mintock casts another spell and points his finger at the ball. A single bright-white missile leaves his finger and streaks toward the ball, hitting it on the bottom edge.

“Do it again, this time try to hit the center of the target,” orders Mida.

On the third try, Mintock finally hits the center of the ball, causing it to burst into many golden sparks and vanish.

The morning passes quickly for Mintock, as Mida scrutinizes his ability to cast each and every spell at his disposal. The afternoon he spends meeting some of the other wizards after an hour spent with Elrod, the White Wizard, master of the white magicians and of the tower.

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Seldor and Nordok begin their day with a search for Smitty. “Hello good sir. You must be Smitty. Killian described you well.”

“That is me. What can I do for you?”

“We, and two of our associates came in with the caravan yesterday. The four of us are staying, and we wish to make arrangements for the board of our four horses.”

“Well, we keep the long-term guest’s horses in the east stables. The cost is three silver for each horse for each week. That covers a stall, one brush down a day, and fodder for the week.”

“Pay the man, Nordok.”

“Here’s the 12 silver, sir.”

“BOY!” yells out Smitty. “Get these gentlemen’s four horses from the west yard and move them to the east stables. And be quick about it. I’ve got other chores for you that still need to be done today!”

A small, grubby-looking boy appears and motions them to follow him to the eastern stableyard. “Which ones be yours?”

“These four over here,” says Seldor, as he and Nordok begin to gather the saddles and gear for each of the horses. Throwing the saddles and gear on the backs of the horses, they put the tethers and bridles on them.

“Follow me and I’ll show you where we’ll be keeping them.”

Grasping the tethers, the two follow the young child to the east stables, leading the horses to their new home, at least for the next fortnight or so. Once the four horses and their gear are safely loaded into the stables, the two check to be sure that there is feed and water in each.

“I rub them down in the afternoon each day, like all the rest. No harm’ll come to them whilst they be here. You can count on that.”

“You got a name, kid?” asks Seldor.

“Everyone just calls me Boy.”

“Well, there’s an extra copper a day for each if you keep the harnesses oiled,” says Seldor, handing the kid four copper pieces.

The kid looks around quick-like, and not seeing anyone watching him, quickly hides the four copper pieces. “I’ll make sure your gear is taken care of real good!” he promises.

“See that it is, because one of us will be by every day to check and pay you your four copper pieces, ok?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Run along now, before Smitty comes looking for you!” says Seldor.

“Looks like you have made us a friend, Seldor. I just hope Smitty don’t take offense to us paying the kid to look after the tack and harness’.”

“Too bad if he does. Doesn’t look like he takes very good care of the kid to me.”

“Well, he’s a pretty big guy with an obviously dour temperament. I don’t know if I’d want to mess with him. Looks like he could pick up one of these horses in each hand and throw them across the yard, if he wanted to.”

“Well, you know what they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

“As long as he doesn’t fall on me! Let’s get going, I feel like a good workout in the training yard would do me some good.”

The two cross the courtyard and approach the doors in the north wall where there are now five guards. One of the guards asks, “Back already?”

“Yes, we need to visit the fighters’ guild and get some exercise.”

“Mind if I join you? My watch is over and it has been a long night. Could use a little exercise myself, maybe it’ll work the kinks outa my bones.”

“More the merrier” replies Nordok as the three pass through the doors.

“How come it’s just you that has the end of a shift? Don’t the rest get changed out too?”

“We change off one man per hour, though each of us stands a four hour watch. This way there is always someone fresh, and there is always someone who knows what has been going on, at least for the last three hours, anyway. That’s why I was able to pass you through without a bunch of questions. Now if you had been out in the yard for more than three or four hours, when you tried to go through, there would be all new guards and they would have had to ask you your business. This way saves a lot of hassle for both parties, see?”

“But then which guard is in charge?” asks Nordok.

“Why, that’s simple. The one who has been on duty the longest.”

“Makes sense, since he would be the one with the greatest chance of knowing who came out and therefore who can get back in without questions,” returns Seldor.

“That’s right. Well, here is our humble fighter’s guild and the training yard. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Maximar, he runs the place.”

“Well, well, Hunar, what have you brought me today?” asks Maximar, indicating Seldor and Nordok.

“A couple of fighters, just came in on yesterday’s caravan.”

“Adventurers, eh?”

“Soon to be, anyway,” replies Seldor. “I’m Seldor, and my friend here is Nordok.”

“Well, I personally test all newcomers wanting to join the guild. I gotta find out how good you are and what you are capable of if you want to be trained. You can find some practice armor over in the armory as well as some practice swords. We’ll start with short swords first.” While the two find and put on the practice armor, Maximar goes out to the yard, where he instructs one of his helpers, freeing up his morning schedule.

The next few hours are filled with practice using every weapon conceivable. At one point, Nordok, unable to contain his anger over being made to look foolish trying to use a halberd properly, complains “I said I don’t know how to use this pole with a knife strapped to the end. I can’t learn every weapon known to man, and I don’t expect to. I know how to use my bow, my longsword, and my two-handed sword, what do I need with all the rest?”

“All things can be considered weapons, just because you master three or four weapons doesn’t mean you restrict yourself to them. If you lose your sword, and a spear is within reach, would you rather fumble around in your pack for a backup sword, meanwhile giving your enemy the freedom he needs to kill you, or do you pick up the spear?”

“The spear.”

“And, if you don’t at least have an inkling of how to use it, then what? I’ll tell you what, you become a danger to yourself, and, even worse, you become a danger to those around you. That is why you should at least be familiar with as many weapons as possible. Not only may your life depend on it, but the lives of your comrades as well!”

“And, since it seems you think a halberd is a stupid stick with a knife on the end, I am going to show you just what a stupid stick can do against your sword! Go get yourself a longsword! Plenar! Toss me a staff!”

Maximar promptly proves what many experienced swordsmen and masters of the staff have known for generations, the longer reach of a staff will allow someone moderately trained in its use to easily defeat even a superior swordsman. A lesson that Nordok found very painful, as Maximar delivered many blows during the 15 minutes of the match, and without Nordok being able to land even a single blow in return. After the morning practice session is over, Maximar tells the two to report the next morning for his report on their ability and more practice.

Hunar, grinning, says, “come on, I’ll buy you two something to eat at the Blood Moon. And afterward I’ll introduce you to Reffin. He’s a cleric with the best salve for those bruises in town. Many a day have I spent in your shoes.”

“That man is made of iron. The few blows I landed didn’t faze him in the least. But I have to hand it to him, he knows his stuff and he is very, very good!” says Seldor.

To which Nordok grumbles “too good, I ache everywhere and I’ve got bruises on my bruises!”

“Come on, you two, just watching the three of you made me hungry!” With a laugh, Hunar leads the way to the Blood Moon Tavern and Inn.

“I wonder where Mintock and Clernon are? They said they would meet us for lunch,” wonders Seldor.

“Well, maybe they’ll be here soon, but I’m too hungry to wait for them.”

“Yes, they can eat when they get here. What should we have?”

“I recommend the meat pies, they really hit the spot after a good workout.”

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After devouring several meat pies, Seldor broaches the subject of our need to find an existing party to join.

“Well, we have a board, and I believe there is one notice from a party on there. It is a new party, just formed last year, so its members aren’t so far above you two that they wouldn’t want a pair of greenhorns like yourselves. I believe they call themselves The Dragon’s Bane. I’ll show you where the board is tomorrow. Now, as soon as I pay for lunch, I’ll take you to meet Reffin. Mind you, he’ll fix you up, but it is customary to leave a tip. A few coppers each will suffice.”

“If his salve can ease the pains I feel even a little, I’ll gladly give him a silver piece, instead!”

“Come on, then!” laughs Hunar, setting a brisk stride towards the church.

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Seldor and Nordok, after spending the afternoon recuperating and finishing their unpacking, go down to the common room to await Clernon and Mintock. About midway through their second ale, the other two come through the door.

“What happened to you two? You look like somebody chewed you up and spat you out,” asks Mintock

“I guess Reffin didn’t exaggerate the beating you two took during this morning’s workout.”

“Yes, we had a tough morning. The trip up here must have made us soft,” explains Seldor.

“Yes, we didn’t have a lot of time for practice along the way.”

“But, it was worth it.”

“And we’ve got a line on a party looking for new members, fighters, anyhow. How about you two?”

Mintock and Clernon exchange guilty looks, for both had forgotten to inquire about the matter at their guilds. “Umm, I’ll check tomorrow.” “Me, too!”

“And they call us fighters dumb!” teases Seldor.

“I was busy meeting everyone at the church and becoming acquainted with the place. And everyone wanted to know what has been going on down south during the last two months. And, well, I just forgot.”

“Me, too! Only I had my spellbooks gone through with a fine-toothed comb. And the numerous tests of my abilities and such have left me feeling like you two look. And I’m told that I have to go and meet someone named Maximar for staff practice tomorrow afternoon.”

“Me, too!” exclaims Clernon, with a surprised look at Mintock. This news causes Seldor and Mintock to exchange meaningful looks and snicker.

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me he’s the one responsible for the condition of you two?” asks Mintock.

“Yep,” reply both in unison with a grin from ear to ear.

“At least you already know Reffin!” teases Nordok.

“I think tonight I should get drunk, maybe it’ll help tomorrow,” says Clernon.

“I wouldn’t, you two are going to need to have your wits about you when you face off with Maximar, not that it will help. He’s going to beat you two into a pile of bruises just like he did us,” laughs Nordok.

“Thanks, now I’m really looking forward to tomorrow,” replies Mintock.

“Really. Well, at least let the condemned have a decent meal. What’s for supper?” asks Clernon.

“Same as last night, I asked earlier when we were waiting for you two,” replies Seldor.

“I think I’m going to have the venison tonight.” “Sounds good.” “Sure.” Let’s make it unanimous.” Clernon motions for Teela’s attention. After dinner, with everyone’s thoughts on the morrow, not to mention the exhausting day each of us have had, none of us feels much like drinking. We decide to go to our rooms for some well-deserved sleep.