El and Kib enjoy a meal on the house, but El is surprised when he is given more food than Kib.

“I’m sorry. Did Kib and I not get the same meal?” El asks the barmaid trying to control any frustration building inside him.

“Oh? Didn’t your stay cover the high class dining? I was certain Kib here was marked down for the regular.” She takes out a small notepad.

“My friend here is mistake. I am poor. Oh so poor. El here is rich man. Owns a mine.” Kib says purposefully speaking in broken common.

“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry for the confusion. I do in fact have El here marked down for the all-expenses paid stay.”

“Hrmm.” El sets his hands on the table and looks over at Kib. “You are helping me eat all this food.”

“Gladly!” Kib grabs a biscuit out from in front of El.

Kib leaves to go work in the mine.

Earn Capital

Result = Silver Earned

20% chance random event

Profession: Mining

11(D20)+10(Skill)=21

7%= Event

Downtime Event

Result = Event Occurs

Random Event % Reset

Generic Building Event

48(D100)

Building Specific Event

Downtime Event

Result = Event Occurs

Rolling on Guildhall

Building Specific Event

56(D100)

Infighting (ends previous event)

El heads out to the farms outside of town and finds work with the largest farm in the area. The Kreak farm. They own several fields and the hot springs El saw on his way into town. El meets the three other field hands they have employed; a halfling named Kit Milton, Lov-Kang Smalls the goliath, and dwarfing the goliath is a half-giant that just goes by Morc. Three feet tall, seven feet tall, and eleven feet tall respectively.

He was hired on by a balding human named Ralph Kreak. There was nothing overtly suspicious about him, his wife, his five kids, or his uncle who lived on the grounds. The family wasn’t the most social group El had met, but they didn’t seem reclusive either. He wondered about his quest to investigate them.

Earn Capital

Result = Silver Earned

25% chance random event

Profession: Farming

7(D20)+12(Skill)=19

12%= Event

Downtime Event

Result = Event Occurs

Random Event % Reset

Generic Building Event

63(D100)

Building Specific Event

Downtime Event

Result = Event Occurs

Rolling on Guildhall

Building Specific Event

56(D100)

Rival Guild

Rumors swirl around the farm of another farm in the region doing really well. El recognizes it as Arkin’s farm, but keeps his mouth shut. He’s here to get paid, not to ruin his adoptive fathers business by helping the competitor. Morc and Lov-Kang pull harvesters through the fields. Kit helps direct his friend Lov while El ends up assisting Morc.

“Sorry if I’m too fast. I know I pull the harvester a little fast.” Morc calls back to El.

“It’s not an issue. I have the stamina to keep up.”

“Huh, better hope you don’t eat those words.” Morc and El get their work done much faster than Lov and Kit.

“You been doing this long?” El asks the half-giant.

“Couple weeks. Passing through. Trying to find my dad.” Morc replies.

“Ugh, which half was he?”

“The Giant half.” Morc smiles at the question.

“Oh, well, I don’t know any giants. Sorry I can’t help you.”

“It’s okay. I’m well aware of where he is. Just need a bit more cash to pay for my own lodgings and supplies.” The giant scratches the back of his head.

“Hey, if I find an opportunity to make more money, would you be game?”

“I don’t like hurting no one.” Morc sits down on the ground and is somehow still taller than El.

“Would you hunt? Fight monsters? Even just a bit of dungeon delving? Hell, would you protect yourself and friends from evil people?” El barrages Morc with questions.

“Well, I guess I could hurt some people. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Morc crosses his arms.

“Alright, I’ll let you know if I get a job.” El pats the half-giant on the shoulder.

“Already making friends?”

El turns towards the voice. It’s from an assuming man in a nice white button up and overalls. The man is the owner of the farm, Ralph Kreak, and he runs the place like a lord would run their domain. He has a balding head of hair, dark brown eyes, and a slight gut. Being overfed is a rarity in villages, but he is extremely well off.

“Just getting acquainted.” El replies.

“Well I trust you did your work properly instead of gossiping like a bunch of school girls. I’m paying you to work, not to conversate.” Ralph snaps. He tosses a bag of coins to El and a bag of coins to Morc. Ralph turns to leave.

El steps forward, opening his mouth to yell, as he pulls his arm back to throw the coin bag at the back of Ralph’s head. Morc grabs El’s arm. The field hand turns his head and glares daggers at the giant.

“Don’t cause trouble for me.” Morc says softly.

“Fine.” El rips his hand away and leaves the farm.

Sairene challenges El to a spar once again today. This time they tip over barrels, balance on them as they roll underneath their feet, and use swords to make agile attacks at each other with. El falls off the barrel again and again, but once he is able to keep his balance and deflect the blows of Sairene.

Khazadin doesn’t hold back fighting him today. They use no weapons. Just bindings for their hands. Khazadin boxes, grapples, and throws El around. The two exchange blows, but punching the scales hurts El more than Khazadin. Khazadin gets close to breaking El’s arm before throwing him to the ground.

“You can’t get through my scales. But you can smash bones to pieces. You can pop eyes out of skulls. Go through the armpit, go for the groin, fucking take your opponent out any dirty way you can!” Khazadin shouts as he grabs El by the back of his shirt and practically throws him up onto his feet.

El staggers to his feet and holds a hand up towards Sheriff Grace for a break.

“Not yet buddy. You’ve still got to get a beating from the guard.” Zander walks over, bouncing with each footstep, raising a thin blade.

El’s fist strikes out and slams into Zander’s throat as he starts to mutter a buffing incantation. The guard lets out a horrid rasp and clutches at his throat. The field hand tackles the guard to the ground, slamming him into the dirt, further knocking the wind out of him. As El raises up, sitting on Zander, he raises his fists.

“Where’s my fucking beating!?!” El slams his fist down against Zander.

A blow to the temple, a blow to the jaw, an elbow to the face, and then another punch across the left orbital. He carries through with the strike collapsing to Zander’s side. Pushing himself back up he looks down at Zander. His once pretty face now has a chipped tooth, blood welling up in his mouth, and blood dripping from his nose.

“Where is it!” El grabs Zander’s collar and raises him up. He stops at the feeling of a tug on his neck. Looking down he sees the moonstone slipped out of his shirt during the struggle.

Hands grab El’s shoulders, dragging him off of Zander, as Khazadin and Grace walk over to Zander’s body. The two guards hold onto El even though he isn’t struggling. El stares at the body of Zander as he chokes. Blood bubbles up and flies out of his mouth with each cough.

“Sairene, go get a priest.” Grace says calmly.

The draconian turns and runs at full speed away from the training grounds. Grace nods to Khazadin. The larger draconian kneels down next to Zander and presses a claw into his throat. The claw pierces through his throat just below where El had punched it.

“Did that buy us time?” Grace asks.

“Seconds.” Khazadin responds.

“Fuck!” El wrestles away from the two other guards.

“Alright, El, go to the tavern. We can continue training tomorrow.” The Sheriff orders sternly.

“Should I not be arrested?” El looks between Khazadin and Grace with disbelief.

“He asked for it. You went too far. Shit happens and you both are at fault.” Khazadin grunts.

El rakes his hands through his hair.

“El, leave!” The Sheriff commands El with a stern glare.

El turns, feeling a warm feeling behind his eyes, guilt for his actions, anger over the circumstances. He thinks of saying something back to the Sheriff, but El holds his tongue and leaves. He heads back to the tavern and slams down at an empty table. He nurses a drink and hangs his head low waiting for Kib to show up nearly an hour later.

Retraining - El

Class Levels

Takes 5 Days

Fighter Level 2

⅖ Days Trained

Costs 100 Gold (60 discount)

“Hey El!” Kib calls out excited.

El looks up from his mug of ale and Kib’s bright demeanor drops.

“You okay?” Kib asks as he slides into a seat across from El.

“No, Kib,” El shakes his head as he looks for the right words, “what the fuck are we doing here?”

“We got out of Belrond because of the trouble we were in. We killed important people, you wanted to protect the people you loved by leaving, and I…”

“How exactly did I protect Erin by leaving!” El jolts up slamming his hands on the table. Almost two dozen faces turn to stare at him.

Kib swallows his trepidation. El scowls as he leaves the table heading for the door. He emerges into the night as warm air flows past in the wind. El wracks his nails through his hair and across his scalp as he tries to disappear through the side streets.

Kib exits the tavern, trying to hustle with his tiny legs. The kobold looks to the left and then to the right. Spotting El walking past the houses on the southside of the town and towards the desert.

The kobold chases after El and finally catches up to him as he sits down on the edge of a cliff. He looks out over the desert, putting his head in his hands. Kib sits down a foot to the side of him.

“I’m not doing okay.” El says.

“I know.” Kib mutters.

“I hurt someone. I think I did something I regret, and I got someone I love killed.”

“I was gonna tell you something else back at the tavern.”

“Don’t, I’m no good for you to be around.”

“You aren’t. I was going to say I went with you because I felt safe with you.” Kib flicks a rock off the cliff and watches it pluge a hundred feet to the sand below.

“You shouldn’t.” El says.

“But you killed all three people who slaughtered my family.”

“One got away.” El clenches his fists.

“No, I saw the three that attacked. And we buried all three corpses.” Kib shifts away from El.

“I killed four kobolds who tried to flee the warren.” El looks down below as he states the information as if he were reading a textbook.

“No,” Kib is barely audible as he shakes his head slowly.

“I posted up on a hill outside with a crossbow.” He rattles off more details as the images of the four he killed come to mind.

“Stop,”

“I killed three with it, a fourth with my sickle when he got too close.”

“El…” Kib’s voice chokes.

“There’s a fourth murderer to deal with.”

El looks up to his side and sees that Kib is gone.

“I wish you the best.” El pulls the moonstone out from under his shirt.

He stares at the precious stone. This was it. All he had left. All he ever would have.

El looks up at the sky as shades of purple overtake it. It was too late. Too late to change fate. The farm boy pulls himself to his feet and heads back to the tavern to rest. There wasn’t anything he could do to make things better.