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.
Maya walked up the steps and through the doors. She avoided the main halls, instead heading towards the tavern that took up much of the bottom floor, flashing her license to some armoured guards standing by to keep the riffraff out.
The tavern was a riotous place. The heavy scent of ale filled the room along with the conversation of a hundred souls. All kinds filled the tables, from sorcerers in flowing robes to barbarians in leathers and little else.
Knights and paladins stood in armour and rogues lurked in dark corners, nursing drinks and the tragic backstories that inspired them to dress all in black and develop antisocial tendencies.
It was a place where strange men in hoods would congregate and whisper. Where large chandeliers were just low enough to swing from in a dramatic show of acrobatic swordplay. Where a nightly brawl was scheduled and the carpenter’s guild delivered new furniture every week.
Varnished wooden staircases flowed upwards to private tables and booths where illicit deals were done, relics changing hands that would inspire quests, doom souls, and often end up at the pawnshop when a wolf dropped a better necklace.
It was her people.
Gods how she loathed them.
A booming laugh made Maya wince and drew her up the stairs to the second floor. A circular table was surrounded by two familiar figures and one stranger.
The laugh came from a barrel chested man, his armour plain grey but polished to a shine. A massive shield and sword were slung across his back, his head blocky with a square chin and short hair. Arman, their warrior, his armour bearing the name of Billing’s Blacksmithing Company etched in the steel.
Beside him, cowled in a white cloak and gold trimmed gown that left remarkably little to the imagination, smiled Dinah, the cleric, her pretty blonde hair framing an angelic face and eyes forever lidded like a fox, and as sneaky as one, in Maya’s opinion.
And then there was the stranger. Maya knew her to be their reporter at a glance. A tight jacket over an impressive bust showed off her curves, her pants pinstriped to show off lush hips. A cap with a PRESS badge tucked in the band pressed down golden curls and her blue eyes shone with fascination as she listened to Arman boast.
She was almost unearthly lovely. In fact, she kind of was, judging by her pointed ears. Maya had seen few elves in New Larrin, but one working for the papers? That was a new one for her.
"Maya!" Arman suddenly bellowed, catching sight of her. The large man waved her over. "Come! Meet our intrepid reporter! The fair Ava Copperman!"
The elf turned, beaming and rose as Maya came near. "Hi," Maya said, reluctantly offering a hand.
"Oh my gosh! You’re Maya the Cat-burglar!" Ava gushed, grabbing Maya’s hand and pumping it enthusiastically. "It’s such a pleasure to meet you!"
"Uh. Yeah. You too," Maya said. Ava Copperman. She knew that name...
"I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet the real Red Claws! I’ve been such a fan of yours! I have all the vinyls the bards put out. This is really such an honour. No, a privilege!"
Maya stared at Ava’s face, something tickling the back of her mind. "Wait a minute," she said. "You’re the elf from those erotic photos!"
Ava flushed. "Oh, well, yes. But that was such a long time ago."
"Wasn’t it just last week?"
"Uh huh! And people are still talking about it. Can you believe it?"
Maya could. Those photos had made the rounds in the guild a lot. "Uh, right."
"Anyway," Ava said. "It turns out the photo was actually a demonic sex ring trying to take over New Larrin. Isn’t that crazy! People keep asking me about it and offering me contracts and flowers and invitations. Flattering, but really. A reporter shouldn’t be the story, you know?"
"So they sent you to cover us?" Maya said.
"Exactly! My editor figured I should travel a bit while things cool down. Do something with a slower pace."
"Which is wandering in the wilds killing monsters?"
"Yeah! Isn’t it wonderful?"
Maya twisted her lips, pulling her fingers from Ava’s still pumping hand. "This isn’t a picnic," the catgirl said sharply. "We’re going into some dangerous territory."
"Which is why she’s going with us!" Arman declared, slamming a fist against his chest. "We three heroes will keep her safe, or our name’s not the Red Claws! Look! It even says so on our cloaks!"
Maya rolled her eyes, sliding into a seat at the table. "And what, exactly, is our job?" she asked.
"Goblin raiders attacked some farms," Dinah said, her soft voice almost inaudible over the background of drinking and partying in the tavern. "They’ve been stealing pigs, and recently some women. We are to go and... deal with the problem."
Maya eyed Dinah’s sweet smile. There was something of a sickle in that grin.
"Right!" Arman boomed. "The noble peasantry shall not fear the depredations of little green men for long! Their pigs shall remain unmolested if I, Arman! Knight of the Blessed Chalice, protector of the people, have anything to say about it!"
Maya rubbed her temples. She was already getting a headache. But no. Play it cool. Play it nice.
Goblins were a minor matter. But slaying them would look good, she had to admit. Not impressive, but it would give some good publicity. Stealing pigs was pretty low down the totem pole of seriousness, but a few captured farm girls would change the tunes of the bards. People loved to read about farm girls being rescued.
She looked at the others and put on a glassy smile. "Well, we certainly can’t leave the people out there alone to be preyed on by monsters. It’s a hero’s job to defend them, after all."
"Damn right!" Arman cried, slamming a fist down on the table. "We’ll save those poor townsfolk no matter the cost!"
Maya rolled her eyes.
Well, at least it was only goblins. They could handle that.
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