They were gathered around the cauldron, looking down into its depths. The swirling green light played over and over the fall of the underground chamber. The doom of Miss Stroud.
At last, one of them gestured, banishing the image, sending the foul green waters rolling and bubbling, awaiting their next command.
Darkness veiled the chamber. The sort of darkness in which many terrible things had been done and spoken of. The sorts of things only whispers dared even suggest.
In the corner was a snack table.
"Well," one figure said. "That didn’t go well."
"True. But we got what we were promised, at any rate," said another.
"Should we be worried? The witch won’t be pleased her scheme failed."
"What is that to us?" another said. "Are we her servants? Besides, she’s a bitch."
"True," a fourth said, the green light of the cauldron showing the sunken features of his face as he gazed into the cauldron. "But if the Master is displeased..."
Silence filled the room. A pondering silence as men considered possibilities, many of which involve pointy objects being inserted in places best not dwelled on.
A shudder passed through them all. There was a crackling as someone dipped a hand into the chip bowl.
"Do you think He’ll act?" one said.
"It’s always possible. He has before. And the mountains rumble with war."
"Mph," another said as he finished chewing. "He has little interest in New Larrin."
"But if His eye is turned on it?"
"Well, I own a boat. So..."
A hooded head turned in surprise. "You bought a boat? When was that?"
"A few months back. It’s quite nice, actually. Got it second hand, which really saved me some money."
"People, please!" a voice said curtly. "We can all discuss the boat later. For now, we’d best compose a missive. The Black Horde should be informed their plan failed."
"And if they have another?" one asked.
Hands were folded into black sleeves. A hooded head bowed.
"Then the Emerald Circle will decide what best to do."
"Maybe we can use my boat!"
"Shut up."
---
To journey with the Red Claws was an opportunity I’d long dreamed of! As every young man and woman of New Larrin would, of course. For who doesn’t look up to the noble heroes - the Adventurers! - who go forth and defend us from the evils beyond the walls.
And the moment I saw their heroic visages, I knew that these would be the people who would protect the poor people of the country from the evils that preyed on them.
I met them at the Adventurer’s Guild, and immediately understood these were truly great people! Humble Arman, faithful Dhina, and the noble and clever Maya. Three names that will no doubt go down in history for their selfless valour and courage in the face of danger!
Ava Copperman, 7/18, Year of the Flying Rhino
"Cannot fucking believe this," Maya Adriana said.
But that wasn’t true. She could believe it. Being an adventurer meant you start believing in lots of things. Usually because those things are trying to kill you.
The cat girl leaned against the window of the carriage, glowering out at the streets. She was dressed in black leathers that had become her trademark. Maya! The Cat-burglar!
It was a name they’d given her, and one she’d adopted, because fuck knows you needed something to catch the imagination these days, and the sight of her in buckles and leather surely did that. Once, all you needed was a really big sword and daddy issues, but even that wasn’t enough.
"It’s standard procedure," her agent, Eddin, said from across the carriage. "And it will look good, of course."
Maya turned from the window and to the drab man in the suit. "Dragging along some wet behind the ears city girl to fight a horde of goblins is standard?"
Eddin looked at her over his spectacles. "She’s a reporter, Maya. And many well-known adventuring parties bring them along to write articles about their travels. It’s how we build up the fame."
"Ha!"
"Would you prefer the old way? Where we embedded bards in the groups to sing the tales of heroism in taverns? Hardly an efficient use of time or money. Not to mention the last time we did, he had some very uncomplimentary things to say about you."
Maya flushed. "That was his own damn fault! He groped me."
"And you threatened to cut his balls off. Do you want to be known as ’Kitten the Gelder’ forever?"
Maya crossed her arms, pouting as she glared out the window again. "No," she bit out at last.
Errin nodded. "I thought not. Don’t worry. I looked into her. This reporter is very well known in her circles. She works for the Morning Wood."
"That rag?"
"Its circulation is in the millions. People read that ’rag’. It’s exactly the sort of thing to get people’s minds off your other indiscretions."
Maya grumbled, her feline ears flicking with annoyance. "I still don’t like it."
"Well, get used to it. We need the sponsors and since you’re between nemesis, it’ll have to do. First things first. We clean up you and the Red Claw’s image, then we move forward. Got it?"
"Yes! Fine! Whatever! Just stop badgering me."
Errin eyed her from across the carriage, then glanced out the window. "Alright, we’re here," he said as they ground to a halt. "Remember. Your image, and more importantly your sponsorships, are on the line."
"I got it," Maya growled as she opened the door and stepped out into the dusty street.
She straightened, stretching, feeling the leathers flex about her firm form. Lithe, sensual, she didn’t dislike being eyed by others, but it was still a bit much sometimes.
She let her arms fall, sauntering down the cobbled street. Across the wide avenue rose the Adventurer Guild (inc.).
It stood all alone, dominating the square, and crowded with people from all across the realms. Stylish minarets sat atop the frontings and its large doors were open to all.
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