Book 1: Neutral Partisan

Her name was Thais. She was a dwarven women with long braided red hair and beautiful smile. Her broad shoulders proudly carried around a rather voluptuous chest and she wasn’t afraid to show it off. Therefore, she made sure to bend over a bit too far to pour a glass of wine for the dwarven man.

                “There we are dear. A… full bodied wine for a man like yourself.” She smiled politely and finished it off with a wink. Vim nodded kindly to her and tipped his glass. Thais sauntered to the door and smiled over her shoulder before exiting the room. Vim smelled the familiar aroma; the earthiness joined with a hint of fruit. It was indeed a good wine and he made a mental note to ask Sask where he acquired it. Taking a sip, the flavor was dry but pleasantly so. It filled your senses to the brim and gently released them. Vim couldn’t help but laugh. It was a fitting wine for a brothel to serve.

                “Ah, my friend.” A gentle voice beckoned to him. Vim looked to find Sask entering the room dressed in a rather lavish velvet robe. The soft fabric was died a deep ruby colored that complemented his natural green completion. Vim rose to meet his half-orc friend and offered a handshake. Sask returned it chuckling,

                “My apologies for keeping you wait. I’m pleased to see that Thais was able to serve you while you waited.” He motioned towards that glass. Vim lifted it and nodded, making a motion with his hands. Sask watched his gestured with a trained eye as Vim did so. Over the years, they had not just become business partners but good friends as well. One of the traits that Sask always found interesting about Vim was his muteness. Despite this flaw, Vim found a way to communicate with sign language. Out of respect, and curiosity, Sask made it a point to learn what each motion and gesture meant. He understood it so well now that conversation flowed naturally and freely between them.

                “It’s wonderful!” He gestured bring his palm from his chin to meet his other palm.

                “I’m glad to hear. I will have someone deliver a case to your tavern for you to sample. If it’s popular enough with your customers, I will happily get you in contact with the vineyard. Vim nodded to him and took another sip of wine.

                “I will sample some of it out tonight if you don’t mind.” Sask shook his head at his friend’s request,

                “Not at all.” With a snap of his fingers, Thais had made her way back into the room,

                “Yes sir?” She inquired.

                “Thais, will you have one someone deliver of case of Cabernet Le Tief to The Mute Bard.”

                “Oh! Absolutely!” She said excitedly and rushed off.

                “The vineyard is owned by a Tiefling. Wonderful woman. She knows her stuff. Now…” Sask adjusted in his chair and pulled a small wooden box from under his robe.

                “My apologies but I’ve grown bored of talking about wine.” Vim looked at the wooden box with a curious eye. It was simple around the edges, about the size of a ring box. The top of it was intricately decorated with a pair of parted lips. A tongue slipped delicately out of the mouth and bore an interested pattern on it.

                “What is it?” Vim inquired with a furrowed brow. Sask smiled mischievously,

                “A voice box.” They stared at each other for a moment and then at the box. Vim’s shoulders and belly shook with a laugh.

                “Good one.” Sask shook his head,

                “No, I didn’t mean it as a pun. It really is a voice box. Open it!” He offered the box to his friend. Vim cautiously examined it before slowly opening the lid. His pulled out a golden chain with a small cube adorned on it. He fondled it in his hands, feeling a faint hum of magic.

                “I know that you were planning on handing out your “hero tokens” today for the festival. Try to lure in those adventurers that will help you with that job. I figured this would help you with your pitch since… well not many people know dwarven sign.” Sask said lazing over the arm of his chair. Vim pursed his lips in thought. As moments slowly ticked by, Sask shuffled uncomfortably in his seat,

                “Of course, if you don’t like it, I can always find other uses for it. The charges are expensive for it after all and I would have to send it off should you want to use it more often than one night…”

                “I appreciate it. However, I AM the mute bard.” Vim motioned.

                “I understand…” Sask sighed but when he reached for the box, Vim recoiled.

                “I will happily accept this gift from my friend though.” He smiled and returned the chain to its box before tucking it into his pocket. Sask smiled from ear to ear,

                “Wonderful! The charge is good for about 1000 words. However, I should mention that it can not be used to recite spells or incantation.” Vim nodded and produced two tokens from his pocket,

                “Here. As payment for the wine and the voice box.” Sask examined the tokens closely and laughed when he saw Vim’s face printed on them along with the logo for his tavern on the other side.

                “Your hero tokens. Then you’re serious about hiring a group to collect instruments for you?” Vim nodded happily. In recent years he had read several books on magical and rare instruments. Having a full-time job as the owner and operator or The Mute Bard Tavern and Inn left him with no free time. Adventuring had never really been his strong suit anyway. He decided using the Hero’s Return festival would be an excellent way to recruit strong and courageous individuals for his search.  Sask turned the coins over his hands,

                “So, what’s the catch with these? You mentioned using them to find your “hero’s”.” Vim nodded proudly as he began to explain his master plan.

                “I have instructed my employees to look around while they run errands today. If they see someone who looks strong or smart, I told them to offer them a token. It gives that person a free night, all they can drink booze, a hot breakfast in the morning, and…” Vim grinned, pulling a mug free from his belt,

                “A commemorative mug!” Sask let out a hardy laugh as he realized the mug had been carved to resemble a dwarf.

                “There are only six tokens though. In the morning when my six hero’s rise for breakfast, I will pitch my quest and make them an offer.” Vim puffed out his chest and put his hands on his hips satisfied. Sask examined the coins again.

                “So, if you are giving these two to me…”

                “Then I trust you to pick two good adventurers.” Vim nodded and Sask smiled at the proposal. He immediately thought of his twin brother. Kes was on his was to Grance as they spoke, and he has been looking forward to his visit. However, he was unsure of what his brother was even doing for a living now or if he would even be interested in adventuring.

                “I will keep an eye out for you. I’m sure we will have a full house tonight. People will eventually get bored of the formalities and the speeches that the mayor must give. They’ll be wanting a drink and a ready whore as the night continues.” Sask sighed and relaxed back into his chair. Vim offered him a knowing smile and rose from his seat.

                “Well, my friend, I must return to the tavern.” 

                “Of course! Once my brother get’s settle in we’ll come your way for a drink.” Sask laughed standing to offer Vim a handshake and a pat on the shoulder. Vim smiled and thanked him again for the gift. Sask watched as the door closed behind him. Upon hearing the click of the latch, he let out a relieved breath and flung off his rob. He tossed himself back down on the couch Vim had been sitting on and summoned Thais into the room again.

                “Yes, sir!” She chirped happily and then paused upon seeing his naked form.

                “Thais, be a dear and bring me the rest of that wine, will you?”

                “Oh… um of course sir! Might I offer you… um… anything else?” Thais stood expectedly before him. Sask eyed her for a long time, as if in thought.

                “Yes, draw the curtains and tell Dune to I would like him to come have a seat on my couch.” Sask offers a smug smile and motioned towards his crotch. Thais slouches her shoulders and quickly goes to draw the curtains.

***

The air still held an ounce of winter as the breeze rustled through the trees. Orist paid no mind to the chill on his skin as he meditated. His nerves had been buzzing since he left the temple a week ago. Every step closer to the walls of Grance made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time: fear. Even now, seated on his mat at the city gates, here tried to call forth a sense of inner peace. His master’s words rang clearly in his mind,

                “You’re still healing. Wounds do not close without a fight. That is why they itch and scab and open. Healing is not a comfortable process.”

                Orist inhaled through his nose and let out a long, rugged breath through his mouth. He touched the jagged scares of his ears, feeling the deep grooves. Even now, the memory of the alchemist gnawing at the tips of his ears with a dull knife was fresh. He pulled his shawl over his head self-consciously,

                “Ten years.” His masters voice echoed again, “You have lived in these temple walls for ten years. I have tended to your physical wounds. I’ve watched the need jagged scares form and slowly fade on your skin. But your emotional wounds, your mental wounds… I can not heal though. Nothing in this temple can. You must look after those yourself.” Orist sighed once again but this time it was in defeat. He rose from his mat and felt his joints strain at the action. The long life of an elf was good for learning and religious dedication. It was not good for the more physically demanding careers of thievery and fighting. Despite still having several hundreds of years to look forward to, he didn’t feel like it. He reached fo this mat and began rolling it up. A caravan was slowly rolling past him and he could hear the greetings of the city guards.

                Slowly, he gathered the rest of his things and made his way into Grance. Two humans greeted him with joyous reprieve. Orist smiled to them both and found that he was taken aback by the size of the city. Grance was by no means a metropolis but it was clear that last two hundred years had been kind to it. Sturdy stone buildings rose into the sky. Making his way to the city square, the homes turned into lucrative businesses and shops. He heard the clanging of the blacksmith and smelled the incredible aroma of baked goods. Banners hung in streets with pride and several street performers danced here and there.

                The decorated street opened to a grand plaza. The smell of fine meats and enticing deserts hung in the air. A regal fountain giggled in the center of the plaza, depicting a dazzling goddess in the center. The moon was held in one hand and the sun in the other as water washed over her sheer dress. Beyond the plaza was the Grand Church of Grance. Beyond it’s walls was the more prestigious of the city and the castle. Orist felt an odd feeling stirring in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it could be called excitement or anxiety. It had been so long since he had been engaged in the bustling of the city. As he gazed around in wonder, he was pushed aside by a cloaked figure.

                “Sorry, friend.” The figure produced over his shoulder as they bumped into another man, causing him to spill his haul of produce all over the ground. Orist watched as the figure disappeared into the crowd then rushed to help the man pick of his things. He was a younger half-orc, his skin a soft almond color, and his eyes honest and clearly frustrated.

                “Here let me help.” Orist offered, grabbing at cabbages and oranges before they could be trampled by the flowing crowd.

                “Thank you, elf.” The half-orc smiled,

                “Don’t think of it, friend. The name is Orist. Are people in this town usually so hurried?” Orist inquired reaching for another orange but found that someone has already stomped it into pulp.

                “Only when there’s a coin purse involved.” The half-orc laughed before scowling at the ruined produce on the ground. They both stood and Orist reached for the empty space where his purse has been. He shook his head disappointed that someone like him had fallen victim to the oldest trick in the book.

                “Of course, that was the case. Looks like I’ll be sleeping in an ally tonight then.” Orist chuckled to himself. The half-orc offered his hand and Orist took it,

                “The name is Gone. I’m the bar-tender at the Mute Bard tavern & inn.”

                “Gone.” Orist scrunched his brow at the odd name and the Gone laughed, adjusting his load of groceries. He reached into his pocket, producing a token to Orist.

                “Take this. I appreciate your kindness for stopping to help. This will keep you off the streets tonight and get you a hot meal and drinks at the tavern.” Gone smiled as Orist took the token and turned it over in his hands. The face of a dwarf looked back at him, holding a finger to his lips. Gone patted him on the shoulder,

                “If you’d like, I still need to pick up a few more things. I’d appreciate the help.” Gone smiled and Orist tucked the coin in his robe. He followed behind the half-orc and into the crowd.