Nearly two months had passed since the day of the trial. Thal was sitting behind the walnut counter in Tharmisa’s Cauldron, reading about the appraisal of magical items when, without warning, the door to the shop swung open violently. Thal, wand already in hand, scanned the room, but he couldn’t see anyone enter the shop. He arose hurriedly as he heard footsteps and spotted a scruffily dressed, red faced gnome behind the counter. Thal opened his mouth to greet Hobse, but the gnome spoke right over him.

“There’s no time my boy” he gasped, out of breath, “You have your opportunity, but you must act fast.”

“What are you doing..?” Thal began before he was cut off again.

“Oh I was in the area and I thought I could use some don’t be foolish. Now hurry, we haven’t much time.”

Before Thal could ask anything else, Tharmisa walked in from the back, eyebrows climbing.

“Professor Mugwich? What are you doing here? Thal is working in the shop today.”

Thal was nervous at his mother’s sudden appearance; this was a collision of worlds he had not expected that morning.

“This is no shopkeeper my dear, he’s my student, he’s a wizard and he’s wasting his time. If you’ll excuse us, he has an important opportunity that cannot be missed.”

Thal looked to his mother, trying his best to convey a wordless apology. Tharmisa eyed him and then Hobse cautiously.

“Well I suppose I can’t have you wasting your time. You can have the morning off. Just promise you’ll let me know how everything goes. Whatever it is you’re doing…”

With that Hobse had already set for the door, Thal squeezed in a short but sincere “Thank you” to his mother before following after the gnome.

The world is a perilous place; there are countless dangers and evils to be found. But it is also an ancient place, and extensive cultural and magical history have left it sewn with treasures waiting to be discovered. It is the combination of a need for protection against its frequent perils and the opportunity for discovering riches that has given rise to the modern adventuring party: Groups of professionals from different fields who, by combining their talents, will travel the land as fighters, guards, treasure hunters and explorers. All of the current and former adventurers I have spoken with describe it as both exhilarating and immensely dangerous; a unique lifestyle promising potentially huge rewards twinned with possibility of meeting a gruesome fate.

The Rise of the Modern Adventurer - Ralph Knete

After several minutes of following a surprisingly agile gnome, Thal found himself at the opportunity Hobse had promised him.

“I’ll be honest Hobse, this is not what I had anticipated” Thal admitted, finding himself standing outside a tavern.

Not an upscale, classy tavern. Nor even a clean one. Just a tavern.

“Your destiny awaits,” announced Hobse as he set foot inside.

Thal followed closely behind, questioning both his mentor’s reasoning as well as his sanity. The interior of the tavern was as Thal expected; dim lighting, dull colours and the distinct fuggy aroma of ale and tobacco smoke that the he was sure would stick to his clothes. The kind that his mother would detect instantly upon returning home.

As Hobse led him through the dingy, crowded establishment, Thal spotted some patrons playing Thrones, others playing a game Thal didn’t know involving dice. More sat doing little more than staring into their own drinks. The atmer’s eyes were drawn to folk sporting armour, brazenly displaying swords and maces on their persons and casually leaving daggers on tables and counters.

If they’re so barefaced about those weapons, I wonder how scared I should be of what they’re hiding.

As he pondered, one of the largest men Thal had ever seen - 7 feet tall at least - walked past and nearly flattened Hobse. Thal reckoned him to be a goliath, a race of giant men from the northern ice continent or Artok. A fletcher of arrows hung from his back alongside a formidable bone-hewn bow which Thal judged to be as tall as himself.

Thal and Hobse sat down at a small table near the bar. Now settled, Thal thought it time to ask some of the many questions that had been steadily accumulating in his head.

“What are we doing in a tavern?” was his first.

“We’re here because a wizard of your talents should not grow up to be a shopkeeper.”

“So I should grow up to be an innkeeper? A drunk? A barmaid? Why are we in a tavern?”

It bothered Thal, his teacher’s habit of answering a question in a way that told him nothing.

“You’re not here to work for the tavern, you’re here to work for them.”

Hobse gestured with his head towards a booth in the corner. Thal turned to look, there was a small group sitting there and only a couple of them were human. He immediately noticed the goliath was among the company, as well as a half-orc woman who was looking directly at Thal. Her stare was of such a cold intensity Thal immediately turned back around in his seat.

“They’re adventurers” chimed the gnome, “they are in need of the services of a spell caster and for whatever reason would prefer not to find one via a guild. I suggested you, so here you are.”

Thal wasn’t sure whether to be angry at Hobse or delighted. The gnome had ensured Thal was as ill-prepared for a job interview as one could possibly be.

Can it even be called a job interview if it takes place in a tavern?

On the other hand this could be exactly what he had been hoping for. I’d be working as a real mage… He decided not to poke at Hobse for his unorthodoxy and instead run with it. He had been around the gnome long enough to know when one of the two was called for.

“What kind of adventure?” asked Thal, leaning in over the table.

“A much better question!” sparked Hobse. “There was a jailbreak two nights ago from the Berrus prisons, and the escapees are thought to be travelling together. Normally the city guard would deal with this, but they’re stretched thin by the war, so the job has been given to the lady and the gentlemen sitting over yonder. There is currently no spell caster in the group and so they may very well pay you a considerable sum of money to accompany them. That means all the usual spell-caster duties and, if need be, assisting with the capture of said escapees.”

Thal took a moment to consider. The last and only occasion on which Thal tested his abilities in such a hands-on setting ended with him being punched in the face. The notion of taking on escaped criminals was downright frightening.

I could always say no. Go back to the shop. I’d be safer there.

Thal remembered the weeks waiting for something, anything else, to come along. Truthfully it had been agonising. He had a goal and this was his best chance. Thal realised that any fear of danger paled in comparison to the fear of never leaving his mother’s shop.

“I’ll do it.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed the gnome, “I’ll go over and start things, then I’ll leave. They’ll either invite you to the table or send over a face to speak with you.”

“A face?”

“Yes, a face. It means someone with charisma, the one who the party would use for smooth-talking, lying, negotiating and apparently interviewing.”

Thal took a second to absorb the information; in all of his years training none of this had come up once.

“Being the face” added Hobse “means you mustn’t lie to him. If he’s good, he’ll know when you do. Oh, and whatever you do: do not upset the half-orc. She’s no damsel, she’s their leader. She’s stronger than she looks, impossible as that sounds, and she won’t take kindly to you wasting her time.”

Thal, now terrified of his prospective employer, watched the gnome drop from his seat and make his way across to the booth where the party sat. He had to admire his mentors’ confidence, a 3-foot gnome sauntering over to a table of warriors each at least four times his size. While they were speaking with Hobse, Thal took a moment to look over each member of the party. In the centre of the table sat the half-orc that Hobse had warned him of. She held a severe expression, with permanently furrowed brows and stern, yellowed eyes set deep into a face like green stone. She wore a thick, well-polished iron cuirass, but her bulging green arms were bare aside from shirt sleeves and leather wraps around her hands and forearms. To her side sat a steel battle-axe, both edges of which gleamed even in the dim light of the tavern. Next to that an unpainted wood and iron buckler was set against the bench, but Thal found it hard to believe anyone could wield an axe that size with only one hand.

To her right sat a tall, red-headed man with fair-but-sharp features and a clean-shaven face. Red hair was not a common trait in Altoman lands. He wore no armour Thal could see aside from a long coat of a faded-blue colour with a white trim that was stained in places. Thal gaped a little at the genuine repeating crossbow propped up against the seat next to him alongside a sabre nestled in its sheath. He had only ever seen one before in his life, and that belonged to a patrician, a lord of some other high-born sort. As Thal understood it, it was a Gnomic invention, with an ingenious mechanism that loaded the bolts automatically. To the half-orc’s left sat the goliath Thal had seen earlier. He sported only greyish hide armour – it had probably been snow-white before he came south - typical of that worn by the goliaths.

At least it is according to a book I read.

It was crafted from thick animal pelts, used to protect the wearer from the cold of their homeland, and treated to be surprisingly adept at stopping the teeth and claws of the animals they hunted.

Again, according to a book.

Next to him rested his enormous bow, and an impossibly large spear. Despite his immense size, the goliath had a gentle appearance to him, at over 7 feet tall and heavily armed he still somehow came across as one of the most approachable people in the tavern.

Wherever you are; no matter which continent you stand on or whatever city you dwell in, if you go north, you will eventually reach Artok. Not a lot is known about this landmass; explorers have only travelled as far as one hundred miles upwards into the icy realm and discovered no treasures, no lost cities and no end to the icy wilderness. We know only of a desolate landscape; snow canvassing ice and rock and mountains. Few men dwell here, there are but a few small settlements dotting the coast, built for and inhabited by whalers and fishermen.

The animals of Artok are strong and fierce; harsh creatures bred by a harsh world and made giant to survive the cold. But perhaps the most remarkable life to be found here is that of the Goliaths. Very similar to men in appearance these humanoids are massive, named in the common tongue for their stature. The Goliath culture is largely a mystery; few Goliaths travel outside of Artok or mingle with outsiders. If there is some treasure to be found in the great icy north, the Goliaths have told no-one.

Memoirs - Elean Wyarde

Also at the table was a man seemingly of Okatan descent, dressed in foreign clothes. His attire seemed to fit on him like a gown, the dark-grey cloth being wrapped around him and fastened by a belt and bands in several places. He also wore plate arm guards that seemed too thin to be of much protection, but he had no doubt the ensemble provided a great deal of manoeuvrability. By the man’s side lay a weapon much alike to a spear or halberd. However the leather-bound wooden staff was too short to belong to a halberd, and the steel tip was too long and blade-like to belong to a spear. Thal made a note to find out what it was exactly.

The last member of the party was probably the most unusual looking, a short but stocky simian humanoid; a kind of ape-man. Thal had never met such a man, but instantly recognised him as a Vanaran, the ape-people from the jungle-continent of Vanara. This man had a wide face, orange fur and wide, strong arms. He wore baggy, dark brown trousers and a leather vest around his torso. Attached to the vest was a blow pipe; a silent, fatal and typically Vanaran weapon. Small pockets in the man’s vest were packed to bursting, with brightly coloured feathers of varying hues poking out. Thal had read about Vanarans, and made an educated guess that those were the tails of darts. Around the man’s waist hung a belt weighed down by many pouches, no doubt containing all manner of nasty surprises.

Just as Thal was getting a feel for the dynamic in the party, he realised the red-headed man’s blue-green eyes were directly upon him, no doubt sizing him up as Thal had been them. Not wanting to be caught gawking, Thal averted his gaze down to the table in front of him. After a few seconds he tried to glance sideways at the party to see what was happening, only to spot Hobse leaving the table and strolling back towards him.

“I’ll have to be off now my lad” he said as he stopped by the table.

“You’re leaving?”

“Well you wouldn’t make much of an impression if I were sat here holding your hand the whole time now would you lad?” He made a good point.

“So, what happens now?”

“Now the man with the crossbow is going to approach this table. He’s the face. Remember that. He’s going to ask questions; about your abilities and your experience and such. He’s good, lad. Don’t lie to him or even exaggerate more than usual, he’ll know if you do. But you’re a talented wizard and you’ve had a lot of training. You won’t need to. Plus these fellows went around the guilds for a reason; they likely don’t have much choice with who they hire. Don’t say anything too daft and the job is yours.”

With that Hobse nodded stoutly, left some coins on the table for drinks, and walked out of the tavern.

What did he mean ‘more than usual’?

“Hello there, you must be Thal.”

The young atmer’s head shot around, to see the red-headed man with the crossbow standing at his table and holding a mug of ale in either hand. He set one of the drinks in front of Thal, shook his hand and sat down in Hobse’s seat.

“The name’s Hunter. So Thal, what is it exactly that makes you want to be an adventurer?”

His tone was relaxed, he sounded less like an interviewer and more a man in a tavern starting a conversation, which Thal supposed is exactly what he was.

“Well I…” Thal silently cursed Hobse. “I left a college of magics recently and I was looking for work as a mage. I thought that by adventuring I could keep in practice and make some Oros.”

Technically the truth. I just omitted that thought came to me seconds ago.

Thal recalled Hobse’s warning of this man’s ability to discern lies, but despite his twisting of the truth Hunter seemed to like the answer.

“So you studied at the College of Caer, right? What’s that place like?”

Again it was not a typical interview question, but Thal liked the unorthodoxy. The conversation carried on like this for some time, with Hunter asking increasingly casual questions about Thal, and Thal finding himself more and more at ease in the presence of this stranger.

Thal had just finished telling the story of how he and Estos would frighten each other by creating simple illusions of wasps and spiders and such when Hunter interjected.

“Well Thal, friend, this has been a good talk. I think I’ve heard everything I need, just have to speak with the boss quickly. But you’re an impressive young wizard; I hope we get to speak again soon.”

Thal watched Hunter walk back to the party, sit down and seemed to discuss something with the half-orc. Thal didn’t want them to see him staring again, so he looked down into his second - and nearly empty - mug of ale.

When did I drink that?

He felt suddenly aware of how close to midday it was. He eyed the other patrons of the tavern, hoping he wasn’t the only one drinking so early.

Oh, good. I’m not.

As he was peering over his shoulder, a large figure stood over him quite abruptly. Thal’s head whipped around to see the half-orc’s stern yellowy eyes boring into him.

“Are you any good?”

She spoke quickly, in monotone and with no inflection in her voice, no feeling.

“What…” was all Thal could say before she asked again.

“You’re a spellcaster. You want to join my party. Are you any good?”

Following his pleasant and relaxing meeting with Hunter, the half-orc’s abruptness caught Thal entirely off guard.

“Well?” she asked again, visibly angry at having asked a third time.

“I, uh, I think so” was all Thal could get out, sensing this was a terrible answer and bracing himself for a scathing response.

“How are you in a fight?”

Just as before; monotone and unfeeling, her voice like a machine. Thal was afraid to hesitate, dreading what would happen if she had to ask him again.

“I think so…”

Same answer as before, he could tell she would hate that too. He panicked and threw in more;

“I mean I know offensive spell-casting. I know a lot of intermediate and higher level spel-“

“Could you kill somebody?”

This, Thal was not ready for. He knew when he chose to specialise in destructive and offensive magic that it was only really useful for one thing, and he figured a party would expect offensive spell-casting from a mage. But he had never even considered the possibility taking a life. He could sense his reply was taking too long.

“Yes” he blurted out.

I hope she isn’t as keen with lies as that Hunter supposedly was.

She took her time gauging his answer. Thal tried desperately to read her expression, but he could perceive nothing behind a large, green scowl. She could have genuinely liked him, or been about to murder him, and he would have no idea which. Without saying anything she turned around and walked back to her party, where she said a few brief words and immediately headed outside.

Soon Hunter appeared back at Thal’s table, smiling.

“Congratulations! You got the job. And you still have all your teeth. You’re a lucky man. Here’s my proposal; you join us for one quest. We split the loot and bounty evenly between all party members - that means you too - and based on your performance we might offer you a permanent position in the party. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes, absolutely” replied Thal, still processing all the information.

All my teeth?

“And we’re going after escapees?”

“That’s exactly right” smiled Hunter, “A couple of nights ago they collaborated an escape. Some were killed or captured. but twelve or so are unaccounted for. The city guard have hired us to hunt down the successful ones and return them dead or alive. Now, there are twelve of them and six of us, so dead is the outcome we’re expecting. Are you with me so far?”

Thal considered everything.

When I said I’d be willing to kill, I had a more hypothetical situation in mind. ‘Expected outcome?’

“Sure” was all he said back, feeling less and less sure of himself.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now as this is a man-hunt, time is a factor. That means we’re leaving tomorrow morning. Sunrise. Meet us by the North Gate with enough clothes and wizardy things to last you about six days. We’ll provide food, water and a horse. The gnome said you could ride, so we assume travelling by horseback won’t be an issue.”

Thal again took a second to digest all of the information and replied.

“Sure.”

I’d like to know what else I can supposedly do.

“Well alright then, looks like you’re on the team.” Hunter nodded to the young atmer. “Oh and one more thing, I didn’t spot any weapons on you when you came in. Do you own anything like a small dagger, or even a short-sword?”

Thal hesitated. That momentary pause sufficiently answered the question for Hunter.

“Buy one. You’re an adventurer now, and all adventurers need a dagger eventually. Take my word for it.”

The red-headed man smiled as he opened up his coat, and displayed the small blade tucked away in the inside pocket. With a nod he left, followed by the Vanaran, the Okatan man and the goliath.

Okatan: a continent not well understood by outsiders. The men of Okatan hold vastly different customs to Eldun natives and a different appearance to match. The Okatani often have dark hair and wide faces with precise features. The seasons vary wildly; the summers are intensely hot and humid with a distinct rainy season. The winters are cold and snowy, and the air becomes bone dry. The lands and power are divided between warring factions, each lead by a warlord or self-proclaimed king. The land is most familiar to foreigners as the origin of the highly prized and expensive art, furniture and clothing that one doesn’t find in common markets; the sort that ofttimes is imported to decorate the houses of Eldun’s richest.

Okatan - Ennell Gare