The temperature outside was beginning to drop rapidly as the sun fell on Njord. Even in the late summer months, the city was always extremely cool due to its northerly location and its proximity to ocean. This was compounded by the constant overcast sky caused by the moist ocean air catching on the nearby mountains. Furthermore, one of the major ocean currents runs from the northernmost arctic zone south, following the coastline and adding more chill in the air. However, the water coming from the north also tends to be more nutrient rich, as it picks up and moves sediment along its route, which has enabled a large variety of aquatic plant and fish species to prosper in the area, which in turn support the economy and food supply of the city.

While residents in the area were much more used to the cold climate and were dressed appropriately for the weather, Diane was still wearing her same purple and gold hemmed dress, which also had even more holes made in it over the course of several violent encounters. Compared to the temperate climate of Versailles, which is located along the central valley of the Kingdom, Njord is a much colder city.

If she wasn’t so cold and tired, Diane would have been able to appreciate the glow of Njord, as the sun set in the East. It was one of the rare times during the day that the light of the sun could be seen, and the deep orange and red hues cast long shadows from the nearby buildings while lighting up the tops of the pine and conifer trees just beyond the wall. Since she only had 48 copper to her name, she was forced to go to the slums of Njord in search of an Inn, and didn’t get to appreciate the opportunity to see the light of the sun reflecting off the ocean as it rapidly set.

As she followed the winding road deeper in to the slums, the path began to narrow greatly. There were a few stragglers coming in from hunting or fishing trips, and the various other basic jobs in the city. Before long, the streets emptied of foot traffic. Diane and Thistleman had passed a couple of inn’s at this point, but the one’s they saw looked either extremely run down or far too shady, with hooded and armed individuals standing outside, eyeing them as they hurried past. Down a few of the alleys, other homeless children could be seen grouping together in ramshackle housing.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared and night began to fall, a freezing cold breeze blew down the now very narrow road. With it, some of the road lamps began to light in piecemeal fashion. For many of them, the mana from the mana stones had run out, and due to the poor economy of the neighborhood they had not been replaced. Others flickered with a dying light as they reached the end of their mana supply.

In spite of this, just as she was losing hope and was starting to get lost deep within the slums of Njord, Diane saw a working light next to a small sign hanging off one of the buildings. The sign read “The Skeever and the Bear” and had a small picture of a bed next to it, indicating an inn. The building itself didn’t look too run down and there were no shady characters standing outside of it. A warm yellow light poured out of its windows, which were protected by small metal bars, and the sound of some laughter could be heard within.

Diane’s face lit up a little when she saw it.

“Thistleman! Here, this is where we are going to stay tonight.”

*sniff sniff*

“It definitely smells pretty good, so it should definitely be plenty safe!”

Thistleman had closed his eyes and raised his nose towards the inn. He was also secretly reaching out with his mana for close range magical scrying to check out the interior of the inn. From what he could tell, it didn’t appear like a dangerous place.

*shiver shiver*

“Let’s hurry inside and get out of this cold!”

Diane’s teeth chatter a little bit as she speaks. Without any kind of shelter or appropriate clothing, a night on the street would have been incredibly rough on her body. The kids rush in through the door of the inn.

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Behind a long wooden bar counter stood a giant humanoid figure, at nearly 6’4” tall. He had very broad shoulders and an extremely brawny build. His arms, legs and chest were almost completely covered in an extremely brown fur except for his face, which resembled that of a person except for eyes and teeth. His eyes were larger than a normal person’s and shared a brown hue with his fur, while his front teeth were larger and sharper than a normal humans and included a pair of sharp top and bottom incisors that were exposed when he opened his mouth for a big yawn. Behind his sharp front teeth, he had large, flat molars. Behind him, right above his butt, a small brown puff ball of fur made up his tail, and stuck out over the top of his trousers. He also wore a large plaid shirt, and gave off the feeling someone might get from a lumberjack. He even had a massive woodcutting axe mounted over the kitchen’s fireplace behind him.

His hands were somewhat less furry, with long, retractable claws in between the digits of his hands. He was holding a piece of cloth as he cleaned a large pewter mug. This creature was called an Ursine named Jotuun, who shared ownership of the bar with the small female near the other end of the bar, who was busy ladling the remaining soup from a large cauldron in to a container for storage. The cauldron was over a secondary, open fireplace for cooking and that had a small mana crystal to direct the smoke into a vent out the ceiling. She was quite the opposite of Jotuun, standing at only 4’11” tall. Her face was much more elongated, much like a large mouse face with a pink nose and black eyes. She also had a large pair of front teeth, with the rest of her teeth looking much more normal. She was covered in grey fur, but had on a pink dress and a white, stained apron. Behind her, she also had a long mouse tail that poked out from a hole cut in to the back of her dress. She was a skeever who went by the name of Ryme.

While the inn wasn’t particularly busy, as not many people try to stay in the slums, the dining area was semi-popular with the locals. About 1/3 of the tables were full of mostly demihumans, and some humans. Due to the low population of Demihumans in the Kingdom of Luthas, it would be safe to assume the majority of demihumans in Njord come here. There were tables mixed with Wolf and Dog Canians, who stayed very true to their canine cousins with the exception of walking upright, wearing clothes and having the greatest gift of opposable thumbs. There were even a couple of large orc laborers, each taking solitary tables as their species was not known for being particularly sociable. Two humans also sat at the counter, each enjoying their ale and dinner out of pewter dishware.

The interior tried to give the impression of spaciousness in spite of the small amount of space it had to work with, and the walls were well enough decorated with some pictures and mounted monster heads to liven it up. The lamps along the wall were powered by mana crystals to create small amounts of magical fire to fill the room with the appearance of natural lighting.

The entrance had a large wooden door, with a wooden plank resting adjacent to it to bar the door after closing. Above the door was a small bell, which began ringing as the door was being pushed open.

Jotuun watched from behind the counter as a small, dirty girl, wearing a fancy yet fairly damaged purple dress, pushed the door open with the help of a small boy who was dressed in tattered peasant clothing.

“Jotuun, can you be a dear and greet the guests this time? I’m a little busy over here.”

In spite of her appearance, Ryme has a sweet, melodic voice which carries over to Jotuun. He silently nods his head and lumbers up to the girl and boy, as the door shuts behind them. He looks down at the two kids and waits a moment, as the girl was panting heavily with her hands on her knees, before shortly standing up straight and looking up his towering frame. Jotuun speaks first,

“Welcome to Bear and Skeever. Jotuun, Bear. Ryme, Skeever.”

He points at himself as he says his name, his voice carrying a deep and heavy base, before pointing at Ryme by the cauldron.

He then looks back at them carefully, almost with a look of pity in his large eyes.

“Come sit. Leftover only, but warm.”

“Thank-you Mr. Bear, but I would like to pay for a room first. We don’t have much, but at the very least we would like to have a place to stay.”

Diane decided she would rather make the smart decision, as much as her stomach was grumbling. It has been a while since Terra bought them lunch, and most of that food got wasted by Terra’s… unique behavior.

She passes Jotuun the small pouch with her remaining 48 copper coins.

“How long can I get with this much?”

She is apprehensive. Even the cheapest Inn’s in the regular districts had cost 3 silver per night, and hoped she could at least get one night’s stay for the money.

The Ursine picks up the small pouch and looks at the coins inside, before continuing to speak to the kids in the same slow, deep voice.

“One week. Dinner at Sunset, Breakfast at sunrise. Don’t miss. Now come, sit.”

Jotuun reached down behind Diane’s head and grabbed the collar of her dress, effortlessly lifting her in to the air as he carried her to bar and the plopped her in to one of the stools.

“Eeeeeeiii!” Diane squealed a little as she was suddenly picked up, she did not expect this at all.

“Thistleman, don’t laugh at me! How come you didn’t grab him too?”

“Could tell. He follow food. You prideful. Would say no.”

Thistleman nodded twice, saying “Yep, yep, you hit it uncle bear!” This earned him a lethal-to-anyone-but-him karate chop on the head from Diane.

“Dianeee… chop!”

“OW OW OW! Sorry! Ahhh, stop it!”

“Be nice to me and I won’t have to chop you!”

Diane turned to look back over the bar counter as she heard a small chittering of laughter. Surprisingly quickly, the skeever had ninja’d her way from the other side of the bar and had two bowls of stew in her hands, that she set in front of Diane and the currently-getting-seated Thistleman.

“I’m Ryme, nice to meet you! This is all we have left from Dinner, I was about to put it away when you got here. Can I get your names, little dearies?”

Her sweet voice was very disarming, and for the first time in weeks, Diane started feeling a little safe.

“I’m Diane, and this here is Thistleman. He is my servant who I found in some bushes. Although saying his full name is a little long, so I kinda wanna give him a nickname.”

“Eh? But you already…”

“A nickname of the boy, I think I have an idea for you! How about you call him Thistle, a nice, easy nickname that suits how thin he is!” Ryme cut off Thistleman mid-sentence. She was so used to making all the conversation, because Jotuun hardly ever says much. It resulted in her having the habit of talking over any men she meets.

“Thistle, I like it! That rolls of my tongue so much more nicely! Your new nickname is Thistle!”

Diane gave her command. He must accept it. His pride has already been smashed to record lows, so while having his name changed on him yet again, the sting he felt was a lot less bad than the first time. Plus, Thistle does have a nice, fun ring to it, no? Damnit, their attitude is infecting him! Thistleman expressed his concern in the only way he could, with a thoroughly defeated “Okay… Thistle it is then…”

He decided that enough was enough for one night. For the sake of his pride and sanity, Thistleman decided to just go to sleep. Why? Because only powerful daemons ever sleep to show off their power and confidence. Even if it is a farce, at least he would feel better about himself.

*thunk* His head hit the counter, and he promptly started snoring.

“Oh, the little dearie passed out from exhaustion.”

“Hm. Don’t waste food. Diane, you eat. Then clean and rest. I take Thistle up now.”

Jotuun passed Thistleman’s slightly-eaten bowl over to Diane, who was somehow managing to eat and speak at the same time and completely forgetting her manners. She gladly swapped bowls, as hers was nearly empty anyways.

Then, Jotuun picked up Thistleman and carried him to the room upstairs.

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When Diane came in to the room after taking a quick bath, she saw Thistle had rolled himself off the bed and was sprawled, snoring on the floor. She gave her dress to Ryme because she insisted on cleaning it before Diane went back to the guild tomorrow, so Diane only had her underwear on. (Underwear in this world is essentially similar to very thin trousers that tighten up near the calf muscles and an undershirt.) As she curled up in the warm sheets of the bed, she grabbed the other pillow and held it close to her chest.

All the emotions she had been bottling up this entire time came bubbling to the surface. Hal, Sir Gregory, her father, the coachman, the bandits she killed… She was scared. She was so very scared. Tears came bubbling out of eyes, and she couldn’t help but start crying over everything she had gone through. Even all the years of her family’s disdain for her couldn’t prepare her emotionally for these experiences. She didn’t know what to do next, and had to make hard choices without the experience needed for them. Worst of all, she felt so alone… so very alone…

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry everyone… why… why for me…” she kept repeating quietly to herself.

Then she heard Thistle rustle a little as her turned over in his sleep. She turned to look at him. No, she wasn’t alone. She had him. Hal was wrong about at least one thing in his life, not all peasants will abandon you. She felt some calm start spreading through her chest, allowing her to submit to her exhaustion and finally sleep. She would work through everything else tomorrow, one step at a time.

As her eyes closed and breathing stabilized, Thistleman opened one eye to look at her. He had a strange expression, almost as if in pain or confusion. He silently mouthed the words “Sleep soundly” before he closed his eye again. Outside the door, a small shadow quickly flitted along the base of the door, heading in the direction of the stairs down to the dining room.

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The hills outside of Njord were particularly windy and cold this night. A beautiful woman stumbled towards a door into the hillside in the dark of night, her left hand fumbling to open the latch. As she opens the door, she is greeted by dim torchlight.

She has three deep cuts across her midriff, and blood is dripping from her face on to her chest. Her shoulder-length black hair is also matted down with blood, and a trail of blood follows behind her, dripping from the stump that is her right arm. Her breathing is erratic as she had lost a lot of blood.

She closes the door behind her as she stumbles to a nearby chest in the cave, adjacent to 6 empty beds. Amala knew her friends were never going to come back to them anyways. She pulled out a light red potion, and poured it on her wounds. While they didn’t fully heal, at least the bleeding stopped. She then pulled out a large roll of bandage cloth. She grabbed on to one end with her teeth, and pulled the cloth to wrap it around the stub of her missing arm and her midriff. She then tucks in the piece she held with her teeth, and bites and tears the other end of the bandage, setting the remainder of the roll back in the chest.

Amala walks back to her bed and drops in to it. She covers her eyes with her left arm, still traumatized by her recent experience. Everything had gone so wrong. She barely escaped from the direwolf, and can still remember its razor sharp teeth shredding her arm and clamping on to the bone. Before its foot could pin her to the ground, she desperately cut through the meat of her shoulder and dislocated her arm so she could roll over and then run away. In the process, the claws of its feet ripped through her unprotected stomach. She ran as fast as she could back to the group, and the direwolf started chasing her after finishing her arm. She was losing ground fast, and got back only to find everyone dead and the horses gone. In a sense, she had to be thankful for their death, because the direwolf instead went after the easy meal… their bodies. She never really cared for people, and so she recently became a bandit because it seemed like it would be easier than the risk of adventuring. Now, she realized how little it mattered… because in the end, the monsters would still get you, and now there is no one else to come help you when they do.

Now, she wasn’t sure she had any way left to survive. What good is a one armed archer, who can no longer use a bow? She can’t be a bandit anymore, nor can she be an adventurer, as the city guard would look for her in a heartbeat. Everything hurts, and now she has no one here for her. She had been forced to start coming to terms with the risk and mistake from her decision, and found herself with a very tortured night’s sleep.