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Wizard of Zovoe Chapter 4: L&L Fighting, Inc. (MF rough magic) � 2010 Rhys.The.Mage Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 || Ch. 4 || Ch. 5 || Ch. 6 || Ch. 7 || Ch. 8 || Ch. 9 || Ch. 10 || Ch. 11 [1] As they departed camp and left the darkness of the Wyr behind them, the sun grew bright and the day warm. Jillian had decided that the events of the previous night were some kind of bizarre waking dream and she did not discuss it any further with Rhys. For his part, Rhys seemed content to leave it alone for now. Still, he was curious about the namaah, and it was odd for him to leave that stone unturned. A couple of hours of riding up hill rewarded them with a grand view of both the Wyr, in the distance behind them, and the small town of Baniff ahead. “Baniff township,” Gylal said as the group stopped to take in the view. “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.” “We must be cautious,” Zilan said, a scowl forming on his face. “Am I still the scout here or do you want to do the talking?” Gylal held up both hands and motioned for the scout to take lead. Zilan shook his head, “A couple of trips out of the capitol and everyone is an expert.” … Baniff was a town of five thousand. From a distance all the construction appeared very consistent—meaning plain. A good deal of stone walled buildings with thatched roofs. Some of the larger buildings had wooden roofs, and one in particular was finished in stone. If anything, the grays and browns became even less interesting as they neared. Zilan spoke more as they rode. “Baniff is a safe town, but as Gylal said, we need to be cautious. Safety within the walls does not guarantee safety outside. And if you venture out on your own, well, let's just say that all the dark corners of town do not enjoy the full protection of the law. Still, the most trouble we should see is a bar fight.” “Are there many places we might be able to find some hired help?” Rhys asked. “Are my skills as a guide inadequate?” Gylal spoke up. “Of course not, but as we have already been attacked once, and will likely be again, it is prudent for us to hire some additional muscle.” He looked over his shoulder at the ever silent pair of fighters, Lusan and Kiba. “No offense.” Kiba grunted. Liba said, “None taken. They have good ale in this town? And a smithy?” Zilan nodded. “Once we are inside the town and have the horses stabled I will show you both.” He looked at Gylal, “I recommend you try Tara's Tavern. I have run into a number of dangerous people there over the years.” “Dangerous?” Jillian asked. “Adventurous souls, looking to earn a living in exciting ways. But--” Gylal interrupted, “I know, watch yourselves, that place can be a little rough.” Zilan smiled, “I could not have said it better myself.” [2] The town was indeed more drab up close than it had been in the distance. Nevertheless the smells and sounds spoke of a lively town. The town guards at the one open entrance were amicable, providing only the most basic of warnings about the consequences for violent behavior. A few minutes later the horses were taken care of and the band split into two groups of three. As they followed Zilan's directions toward the town center and the object of their current quest, they passed any number of shops that had merchandise that, at least from the street, was the equal of any larger city. Jillian made note of several apothecaries, while Gylal memorized the locations of shops where they would be able to replenish their supplies. The streets of Baniff were mostly hard packed dirt, except at the occasional low points where they had spent extra on cobblestones to prevent mud bogs during the frequent rains of spring. After seeing wagon after wagon laden with produce and goods go by her, Jillian spoke up. “Surely all of these goods are not needed for this small town?” she asked. Rhys nodded, “Baniff is somewhat of a crossroads. Not many people live here, but a great deal of goods flow through here. As you can see, the merchant guild does quite well.” “Baniff has also proven a good source of information for the same reasons.” Gylal said. Jillian nodded, “Many people from all over meeting in one place.” “Precisely. While we are here I should contact some of my usual sources to see if they have any information on those that attacked us.” “First we get to the tavern, then you can wander off on your own,” Rhys said. “Yes, my master,” Gylal said. Rhys snorted. Jillian giggled. They continued on. [3] The world over there are places of significance that lack any special outward appearance. The storied and highly regarded Tara's Tavern was one of them. The artistically inspired sign hanging from the eaves was the only distinguishing characteristic. Rather than sporting the stereotypical, and all too common, serving wench with the too small bodice, the sign simply read, “Tara's” in bright green letters. A smaller sign on the door read, “Absolutely no bloodshed allowed.” Inside, the tavern was noisy and a beehive of activity. A number of tables, booths and chairs were arranged in one half of the space, while a long bar with a couple dozen stools took up the other half. Rhys counted three women tending bar, with a number of servers moving quickly around the tables, their arms full of plates of food, flagons of ale and bottles of wine. For mid afternoon, it seemed very busy. One of the women behind the bar, a common looking blonde, caught Gylal's eye and yelled to him. “Sit at the bar, pick a table, or get out.” She immediately went back to tending her patrons. Rhys selected an empty booth on the far wall and they sat down there. No sooner had they sat than a tall man with a slight paunch approached the table. He was tall, had a mane of wild red hair, and brilliantly green eyes. Jillian was mesmerized by them. “Would you be Tara?” she asked him. He was briefly taken aback. “The eyes?” She nodded, “They match the sign.” He laughed, a deep sincere sounding bellow. “You are the first to say that without first learning my name.” He extended a hand to her. “Name's Tarrance.” She shook his hand, the gestured to her two companions. “I'm Jillian. This is Rhys and Gylal.” After they all shook hands, Tara was right back to business. “What'll you have? Today we have some pit cooked pork, a tasty beef stew, and some newly arrived Virlan ale.” They ordered and Tara was off like a shot to continue his rounds. The food and ale arrived a short time later, and as promised it was all quite good. After taking a slow hour to eat and drink, however, they had only seen a few that might fit the bill as adventurers. Gylal left Rhys and Jillian and approached Tara as he tended the bar. “Tara, might I have a brief word?” “Three gold.” “To talk?” “Your tab.” Gylal gathered ten from his pockets, passed Tara three of them obviously, and another seven unobserved to the others in the room. The tavern keeper nodded almost imperceptibly. “My friends and I were attacked a few days ago by a group of men. They seemed professional.” Tara shook his head slightly. Gylal read it as he did not know anything about it and was not nervous about his answer. “We are looking to hire some help, of the independent and armed kind.” Tara nodded. “Dwarven couple be in here later. Solid, reliable, adventurous, and dangerous.” Gylal raised an eyebrow. Dwarves were very uncommon in the southern parts of Anora, obviously less so here. Tara turned and headed back out into the tavern. Looked like no more words were necessary. Gylal returned to the booth. “Barkeeps are always the best sources. I have a lead on some people that might be of use to us, but no idea how long it will take for them to arrive. Get rooms at the Griffin next door and I will meet you here for dinner at six bells.” Rhys and Jillian went outside and immediately into the Gray Griffin Inn. Although nondescript like the rest of the town, it was tidy. They secured two rooms then went back to Tara's to tell Gylal and give him a key. They spent the rest of the afternoon browsing through town shops. [4] The next few hours were boring as Gylal patiently waited for the promised duo to arrive. Once or twice he almost changed his mind and approached some of the armed men and women that came and went through the tavern. Each time, as he had been about to stand, Tara had given him a subtle wave off. Intrigued, Gylal remained in his quiet corner, reviewing his notes and trying to determine answers to a number of problems in his head. What game was afoot in Om? What was behind the attack outside of Kar Tosk? Questions he had, in spades, but answers were thin. Some possible solutions were just beginning to gel in his mind when the relative (!) peace of the tavern was broken as a couple literally burst through the door. The solid oak door flew open, slamming on the backstop with a resounding crack! All eyes in the tavern turned toward the entrance, and then slewed downward to adjust for the height of the couple. The two dwarves were there, a man and a woman, standing just over four feet in height. Stocky and powerfully built as was the norm for their kind, they were resplendent in brightly painted steel plate. They appeared to be one person presented in male and female form. Each sported a pair of thin swords strapped x-style on their back, and a small but thick battle axe on their hip to the rear. The cerulean blue patterns on their armor contrasted nicely with their bright red shoulder length hair. They each wore their long hair pulled back in a pony tail. The numerous small dents in the armor, as well as the visible scars on their faces and forearms indicated experience and hard use. Tara's fighters had arrived. The pair looked around the tavern, and at all the eyes focused on them. They looked at each other, an odd expression passing between them. The female dwarf looked around the room and yelled, “Paint a picture, it'll last longer.” The male dwarf laughed, then threw his pack halfway across the room. It landed with a heavy -thud- right next to a table occupied by two men. They looked askance at the short pair. “You're in our favorite seats,” the dwarf said. The men at the table shrugged and kept eating. The dwarves approached. Tara emerged from behind the bar, but he was not moving to get in the way. “You know the rules. No bloodshed.” As one, the dwarves unbuckled their swords and axes, letting them drop to the floor with a clatter as they closed on the table. When they stopped, the men at the table did not look at them. The female of the pair looked at her counterpart, “I hate being ignored.” “It's almost as if they've overlooked us.” “We should deal with this shortly.” “Maybe this discussion is going over their heads?” One of the men said, without turning to them, “Run along little man, we haven't time for you.” Faster than anyone would credit a dwarf with being, the female dropped to one arm and kicked the legs out from under the chair. As the man fell she sprang to her feet and caught him before he could hit the ground. His face was still registering surprise when she used her other hand to land a solid blow to the man's gut. Instantly out of breath, he hung limply in her strong grip. The other man made to get up and the male dwarf put one hand on his leg. “Now, I wouldn't go getting all excited now.” The man tried to slap his hand away, but the dwarf gripped his leg like an iron trap and squeezed. The man howled and made to strike at him. Moving as fast as his companion, the dwarf shifted his weight and threw the man over his shoulder where he landed hard on the ground. He decided to remain there. Meanwhile, the female dwarf pulled her gasping captive up to within an inch of her face. “I do hate being insulted. Will you leave now or do I need to extract an apology?” The man shook his head weakly, just starting to regain his wits. She let him drop to the floor, then the two dwarves took up the now vacant seats. As they sat, the second man reached behind back. Without looking at him, the male dwarf said, “I only follow Tara's rules so far laddie. Unless you want to test that, I suggest you just back away and leave.” The other man, now on his feet, put a hand on his partner's shoulder and the two of them moved away and toward the door. One of the serving maids cleared the table and then Tara brought two large plates of food. Two flagons of ale arrived right after. The pair fell on their food like hungry wolves and the rest of the tavern went back to normal. Tara leaned over the woman and said something. She looked in Gylal's direction and nodded, went back to eating. Tara approached Gylal. “That would be Lemley and Lynda. They're interested in what you have to say.” Gylal nodded, then joined the dwarves. “May I join you?” They nodded, and kept eating. “I am interested in hiring you to provide some additional protection for our party as we journey eastward.” “How far?” said Lemley. “How long?” said Lynda. “How much?” “When?” No mincing words here. “At least to Om. Perhaps further. At most two weeks. Fee negotiable, not less than one hundred each. Tomorrow morning.” “Can't do tomorrow,” said Lemley. “Prior job,” said Lynda. “Price is right.” “Can we join up on the way?” Gylal was mildly amused by the back and forth of the conversation, as little as he had to say to keep it going. The two had eaten quickly and their plates and flagons were empty. “I suppose we could meet up along the way, yes. So will you join?” “Yes,” said Lemley. “No,” said Lynda. “Uh,” started Gylal. And then all hell broke
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