I was looking forward to a beer, despite my ordeal a few days earlier. And I had a feeling that the beer of this world was going to be good.

On entering the bar, we found it modestly full. Most were in groups of two or three, but there was one large group in the far corner. I couldn’t help but notice there were some seriously high levels among them. Over half of them were over level 40, and two of them were in the 50s. I realised I was staring and continued my inspection of the place as a whole.

There were a couple of solo drinkers. There always was. No matter which bar you rocked up in. Lower levelled, and looking like they’d been nursing the same beer for hours, with a faraway look in their eyes.

The establishment was surprisingly clean. Though I did find a couple of the usual sticky patches on the floor as we made our way to the bar.

Halfway through that journey, the barman, shouted over. “No animals. Tie him up outside or get out.”

I was taken aback by his tone and demeanour. Nearly everyone else in Laurel had been naturally pleasant, even the piss taking guards on the gate when we first arrive, was good natured. This guy looked bitter, angry and more than happy to send us away. I checked his tag.

Dug, level forty-two: Trullan,

I didn’t know what a Trullan was, but Dug looked human enough to me. Mal was quick to reply. “He’s a guide dog, mate. He’s no harm to anyone and he’s house trained.”

“He’s a what?” Dug grunted. He was a big man from what I could tell from behind the bar. He had a big head on top of wide muscular shoulder clearly well used to heavy work.

“Helps me find my way about.”

“Summit wrong with yer, like?”

“Yeah. That’s why I need the dog,” Mal said, as if it was obvious.

“You seem alright to me. Tie I’m up outside or sling yer hook out of me bar.”

Mal shrugged and made to leave. “I’ll wait outside. Bring me a pint though,” he said.

“Nah, fuck it.” I exclaimed. “We’ll find somewhere else to find a guide and have a drink. This place is a shithole, anyway. Bit like the owner.” I said catching the barman’s eye. My intention was to wind him up a bit, and maybe prompt him into reconsidering his approach to dog owners.

My intention was not for him to stand up and be nine foot tall. Fun fact, he didn’t actually look that wide shouldered anymore. You could potentially call him slim in proportion to his insane height.

I also wasn’t prepared for his bottom half to be covered in thick black hair, nor for him to roar like a lion. Everyone stepped back, and I cursed myself for an idiot. However, I had a kind of code. If I let my mouth run me into trouble, I wouldn’t back down. I hated loud mouth assholes, who bolted as soon as the odds turned. And that’s why I didn’t shoot my mouth off very often.

“You fucking idiot,” Mal hissed, now behind me. I noticed Daz was already at the damn door. Joel stood his ground, but he looked terrified. Only Boris and me were up for it, and I was entirely faking.

“What’s your problem?” I tried to ask calmly, but with the adrenaline and fear running through me, I pretty much shouted it at him.

“Let’s get out of here guys,” Daz also shouted.

“My problem!” The half goat, man mountain roared “Is you calling me and my bar a shit hole!”

“To be fair, I hadn’t realized you were a fucking giant at the time.” I should have left it there, I didn’t.

“But… you could mop your floors once in a while for god’s sake. Big lad like you, it shouldn’t take long,” I said flippantly. That prompted our new friend Dug, to step over the bar as easily as I could step over a wet floor sign. I gulped. Joel, now stepped back. He tried pulling me with him, but I slipped his grip. I couldn’t run now. Instead, I took a step forward to stand in front of Boris who was straining at his leash to get at the Trullan. I admired his couldn’t give a fuck attitude and weird as it was, it gave me confidence I had no right to feel.

The giant bent down, his face coming to the same level as mine. “I am a trullan! Not a giant. They are twice my people’s height, and they don’t ask questions.”

“Do they stink?” I asked forcing a smile on my face.

He prodded me in the chest with a long sausage like finger. It looked human other than the size. I’d braced myself, but I still moved back a few paces.

A smile spreading on his face. “I think I like you. Are you a human?” He asked.

“I am. I’ve never met a trullan before, but I think you might be like a troll from the stories of our land. Are you always this angry to new customers?”

He stood up straight. “I try not to be, but it’s in the blood you know. Do you think you could have fought me and won?”

I smiled back confidently. “Absolutely… no chance. Judging by the force of that finger poke alone, you could squish me like a bug.”

“Ha, good. You can stay. You and the dog. Tie your friends up outside. They can’t drink in here,” Dug said happily.

The whole bar erupted into laughter, and I realized everyone had been watching the altercation. Joel, Daz and Mal began backing out of the bar again.

“He’s just fucking with you guys. Come on,” I said following Dug back to the bar. He deftly pulled four tankards of frothy beer for us and even poured one for Boris.

I looked to Mal to see how he’d react to Boris getting a bowl of beer. He just smirked and put the bowl down on the floor.

“You the guys who’d been chased by the demons, then?” Dug asked. Now back in his seat that put him eye-level with us.

“That’s us,” Joel answered, wiping white froth from his lip.

“What was that all about, then? How come you were traveling in from the forsaken lands?”

I regaled him of the full tale. Nearly everyone in the bar had turned to listen. I felt mildly self-conscious for a few minutes, but after I’d drained the first tankard, the words began to flow with increasing dramatic effect. I probably shouldn’t have told them everything. But I did. Including my cursed arm.

I then had to show everyone in the bar the damage in question. The blackness hadn’t spread much higher up my arm, but my forearm was almost entirely blackened now and my it had advanced strongly into my hand.

A few of the patrons came over to scrutinize the damage. Including one of the people from the large group.

(Known as)Tang: Level fifty-eight: Losalfar

He had long golden hair cropped at the shoulders. His long grey cape trailed the floor, showing glimpses of shiny chain-mail armor underneath.

“Greetings, human,” he said with a friendly smile on his flawless face. “I have heard your tale, and may I suggest you have the arm removed. To find the mad man Natom Hilgresh, in the hopes of guidance is a fool’s errand. Save your hopes for some other goal.” Then he just left abruptly, without another word.

I looked at Dug. “Was he an elf?”

“No. He was a Losalfar. You don’t know very much, human. Elves are tiny people. Only as big as your knee.”

“Ah, right. I get you. Where I come from, Elves can be like Tang there, or like the little dudes you mentioned,” I replied.

“Yeah!” Daz slurred a little too cheerily at the bottom of his third tankard. “They make toys and mend shoes and stuff like that.”

Dug let out a booming laugh that rattled my fillings. “Elves don’t make toys! They’re nasty little things. A pack of them will strip the meat from a body the size of yours in two minutes. Organs and all. They leave the intestines and genitals, though. So don’t be calling Dug a liar, if you see the leftovers.”

I shivered a bit at the thought of evil little elves swarming over me like piranhas. “Thanks for the heads up Dug. We’ll keep an eye on them during our travels.”

“No problem. So are you still going to try to find Natom?”

“Of course. Nothing has changed. I know healing this thing’s going to be a long shot.”

“Shame you are not Trullan,” he said with sympathy.

“Why’s that then?” I asked. “Can you not be cursed by demons?”

“Huh, I don’t know. Probably. But they’d have to stab everywhere, he said randomly pulling a machete from behind the counter. We all jumped back from our stools apart from Daz who crashed to the floor in his panic. Dug laughed, then hacked into his hand with little ceremony. Three and a half fingers rolled free. One landed on the floor and Boris dove on it, eating bone and all, without hesitation. It all happened so fast I didn’t know what to make of the whole thing. Disgust and shock were the main themes.

I was prepared for Dug to be mad at Boris for scoffing his finger, but he just smiled and pushed the others of the counter for the greedy dog to enjoy. With that done, he held up his hand in front of us. Slimy little projections grew from the wounded digits, expanding rapidly. In less than a minute, they had formed into a completely uninjured hand.

“That was fucking gross.” Joel said. “I was so close to blowing chunks.”

“My dogs gonna be alright eating them, right?” Mal asked still horrified. “Like, a troll isn’t going to grow inside of him?”

Dug laughed. “No, he’ll be fine. Better than fine, he’ll get xp!”

In a strange kind of way, I knew we were all a little jealous of Boris right now. We were all desperate for xp, particularly Joel and Daz, who hadn’t even seen their stats yet.

I mulled over the idea of a troll team mate who could be a never-ending source of free xp. I was convinced I could cook up the fingers into something tasty. Next, I accepted that I must be a little drunk, because that wasn’t a route to xp anyone should be taking.

“So Dug. As I’m not a troll and can’t cut my arm off and just grow another one, how much would an adventurer charge to take us to Faray, in Knuntang?” I asked, distancing myself from my earlier thoughts.

“How longs a tapeworm?”

“How would we know that?” Daz complained, swaying in on his stool.

“You wouldn’t, they’re all different and that’s my point,” Dug replied. “With adventurers, it all depends on who you ask and what their level is. Most adventures work in teams, too. So that’s gonna be pricey. There’s a few that are solo but that’s normally because all their team is dead. He nodded to some of the lone drinkers lost in their own thoughts. He lowered his voice. “You gotta ask yourself if they’re the kind you want to employ. Seems to me lone survivors are the ones that ran.”

“Give me a ball park figure at least. A gold? Ten bronze scraps?” I asked, having no real clue what they’d expect.

Dug rubbed at his bristly chin for a moment before replying. “I’m going to assume you havent got access to horses?”

“Nope. Wouldn’t know how to ride one either. But it might be worth learning on the go. The quicker we get to Knuntang the better,” I replied.

“It would be. But there ain’t many horses for sale in Laurel and you probably would be looking at a couple of gold at least to buy one.”

“Can’t you just hire them?” Mal asked.

“Hire a horse?” Dug laughed. “They’re a precious commodity. Someone might agree, but they’ll want at least a couple of gold for the pleasure.”

“Okay, so we know how much horses are now. Can we get back to my original question on adventurers?”

Dug grinned. “Sure, sure. A mid-ranker, for a drop off in Faray, which is about two weeks away on foot. I’d say you’re looking at about six slivers per person.”

“I’ll do it for five,” said a weasley voice from behind me. Turning around, I had to look down to see the four-foot lizard man who’d spoken. I studied him for a moment, and my instant reaction was that I could trust him about as far as I could throw Dug. I looked back to the Trullan and raised a questioning eyebrow?

“I can’t say yay or nay to any adventurer here. Part of the Inns policy,” he replied. But I could tell from the tone of his voice and his facial expression that this guy wasn’t a good choice.

Added to that Boris was growling at him.

The Lizard man’s tag read:

Glurt. Level thirty-five: Kobold

“Boris here, doesn’t seem too keen on you Glurt,” I said.

“He’s a good judge of character too!” Mal added.

“Dog will grow to like Glurt... Hey how you know Glurt’s name?”

Shit.

“You introduced yourself. You said, Glurt, will do it for five silvers.” I lied.

He thought about it for a minute, then laughed. “Maybe I did. So what do you say? I know best routes, straight through mountains, do it in one week not two?”

I just couldn’t shake my concern with him. I looked to Mal. He shook his head ever so slightly.

Joel laughed. “Hey Glurt, what’s in the mountains? Because I’ve watched Lord of the Rings enough times to know that when a Golem-esque dude like yourself, offers to lead people through the mountains, you say no.”

Glurt looked flustered.

“I am Glurt! Kobold. Not Golem!”

“Either way, it’s a no from me,” Joel said.

“Racist!” Glurt screamed pointing a finger in our direction. He started shouting, so everyone’s attention was drawn to the drama unfolding. “Everyone! They racist cos I’m a Kobold. They not want to work wit me.”

I was about to respond and attempt to calm the loudmouthed little shit down, when a huge hand flew past me, backhanding the kobold across the room in a crash of chairs and tables.

Then the owner of the sublime back hand – Dug, if you hadn’t guessed – boomed at the kobold. “Not racist! Boris is a good judge of character. He was suspicious, that is all. You cause trouble in my bar and accuse good customers of things they did not do, then you’re barred.”

The Kobold picked himself up and scurried away. Dug surprised me by speaking again to the bar as a whole.

“Is anyone willing to take these five to Knuntang? Simple fetch and carry quest. If it interests you, leave your details at the bar so they can decide who to ask. They’re new in town, but they’re good people and it’s an easy earner, so don’t take the piss.”

I watched with gratitude as Dug delivered the message. “Hey thanks man, I appreciate that.”

“You owe me, you racist bastard.” He grinned.

“What! No, I just didn’t trust him.”

“Because he looks and sounds untrustworthy?” Dug answered.

“Well, yeah,” that’s how these things normally work.

“His looks and how he speaks are racial traits. You were just racist to a kobold.”

“I was going off Boris’s reaction,” Mal piped up quickly.

“I didn’t want to be led through a mountain based on my vast movie experiences,” Joel added.

I sighed. “You’re right. I didn’t trust him based on him being a creepy little lizard man. I’ll try to be more understanding.”

Dug laughed and slapped me on the back gently. I thought my damn eyes were going to fly out. “He was totally untrustworthy! You made the right decision.”

“So you’re just trying to wind me up then? I thought you didn’t get involved?”

“If any adventurer causes unnecessary disruption in my bar, then you better believe I’ll get involved. Now about my payment,” he said as adventurers began placing their offers on the bar. I tried to watch who was who as about a quarter of the bar’s occupants came over. Dug loudly cleared his throat, so I looked back over to him. “What can we do for you?”

He leaned forward speaking quietly, though it really wasn’t all that quiet.

“How did you know the kobolds’ name? He didn’t tell you like you said.”

“Ah, that. Can you keep a secret?”

“As many secrets as you have,” Dug answered with a crooked grin. I wasn’t convinced by his answer, but I’d been drinking, so I told him, anyway. His eyes widened.

“You just see this information?”

“Yup.”

“Identify, is a high-level mage skill. Are you holding out on Dug?”

“No. All four of us can do it naturally. It’s weird.”

“Very weird. How come you didn’t know I was a trullan then? You said giant.”

“Because you’re massive and I didn’t know what a trullan was at the time.”

He nodded sagely moving the pile of papers over to us. “Your secrets are safe with me. Now choose wisely.”

“Thanks, Dug. You know, I thought you were a right dick when we first came in here, but you’re a pretty decent bloke.”

“It’s true. I really am,” he grinned. Then went off to serve another customer.