Harvest Day

The Last Celebration

         The atmosphere of the usually homey and quiet tavern is lively and joyful this particular night, for every fortnight the traveling band of bards, an eccentric group of musicians and singers, come to offer their exotic song and celebration. Barrels of ale and bottles of wine are passed about to those locals of New Hesperia, a trading outpost and agricultural town that compliments its much larger neighbor, Hesperia, and those who are traveling through for the business of supplies or trade.

         New Hesperia is located to the south east of its neighbor Hesperia, a good four to six days of travel by foot. To the south of Hesperia is the southern region known as Nishbahn. Many dangers, including a tropic jungle sort of region, separate New Hesperia from this unknown land, even though New Hesperia is the second closest town to this different region. To the east is a mountainous region known as Regadria; then the Ocean. To the North is the Espra mountains, and then a region of bitter cold past them.

         Locally, however, to the immediate north it’s nothing but farmland, stretching for days, but most of it is still effectively part of New Hesperia. The local tavern is the meeting place of travelers where they can find food and lodging while waiting for guides to take them across the mountains to the dangerous lands beyond where only a fool would try to journey alone.

         The tavern is owned by Ninex and is set up quite simply. The stage the Bards played on is along the right most wall of the entrance. The bar area is located at the back; and to the left is a hallway that leads to a few rooms, mostly taken up by the owner and his family and a few close friends. A staircase leads to the rooms for rent up above.

         Tiller Nive, what you could call a local of New Hesperia, in fact, he is one of the tavern owner’s close friends. His origins are unknown, even to himself. He stands more towards a corner with a big grin on his face. Always fond of these celebrations, everyone has something to be joyous about, especially today since
the next day would be the first day of harvest.

         Somewhat tall and quite slender, Tiller Nive has dark charcoal colored skin with pointed, almost jagged ears. His eyes blaze a vibrant burgundy. He wears a pirate’s style bandanna over his long hair, and the hair flows out from under the bandanna, all silver expect for one wicked black streak.

         Tiller Nive is happy to be part of such an understanding community, for what he is, he’d normally be considered one to be hated among the people of these lands. Though it took some amount of earning trust from those in the town, he has performed great feats of defending the town along side other brave locals and travelers, including the tavern owner Ninex, against raiding groups of Orcs and Knolls. Tiller is also a skilled hunter, bringing in food to the tavern as well as trading furs for profit.

         But some of the non-locals however don’t treat him so kindly, for he is a . . .
         “Drow!” comes a scream from a well seasoned traveler, dressed in a cloak that covers his leather armor underneath. He puts his hand on the pommel of a short sword at his side, starting to slide it from its sheath.

         Tiller Nive sighs, accustomed to this sort of thing but never able to adjust to it completely, always being threatened or attacked, even in his own community. Tiller indeed does have drow, or dark elf, blood in his veins, a brutal race known for their cunning, evil intentions and competitive back-stabbing, but he is of a mixed race, much like an elf and human, or half-elf, Tiller is the cross between a drow and a half-elf, having human, elven, and drow blood in him.

         The traveler spits a few contemptuous threats while waving his sword erratically at Tiller. The mood in the tavern quickly adjusts, the band of bards stop, everyone stares, and a circle clears between the two men.

         “Tiller’s being attacked by an out-of-towner!” comes a shout from the back of the crowded taproom. Some townspeople jump to Tiller’s side defensively, but Tiller waves them back.

         “Relax, everybody. I have everything under control here,” remarks Tiller with a confident and smug look adorning his face.

         What the poor adventurer in front of him doesn’t know is that with drow blood comes drow perks such as innate magical abilities. Tiller has an unique ability to him, though one that only a real drow could hope for called foresight. When activated, the Weave, or magical energies, warn him of future dangers, though he doesn’t have an amazing handle on using it.

         The adventurer lunges after a few seconds more, thrusting an awkward unwieldy attack at Tiller. Of course, this actually hasn’t happened yet. This is what Tiller perceives in his mind would happen a few seconds before it does.

         So Tiller uses his advantage, already stepping to the side a split second before the adventurer’s attack started. Tiller simply extends his left foot and right forearm out, tripping his foe and using the adventurer’s momentum to fall forward into his forearm, forehead first. The adventurer falls backwards, changing inertia again, flat unto his back in a daze.

         A grin appears on Tiller’s face, as he raises his own arm as a champion in comedic victory at the expense of the adventurer’s failed attempt of playing the hero.

         “Thank you, thank you” Tiller addresses the townsfolk, as they cheer for they know Tiller could have used much deadlier force than that; and Tiller has defended the small town of New Hesperia against attacks from brutal creatures such as orcs from the east and a band of gnolls, a humanoid-hyena sort of monster, passing through for spoils.

         The celebrations commence anew and the poor adventurer as well as some of the other non-locals stand around confused.

         The hour is late. People start to leave the tavern after a while as travelers come in looking for a place to stay for the night, some joining the celebrations, some heading straight to bed.

         Tiller exchanges a few laughs with the tavern owner, Ninex, as they both start to feel the effects of the drink before deciding to head to bed.

         “I still don’t think that adventurer knew what hit him,” Ninex says, prodding Tiller’s side.

         “It might help for him to wake up first, perhaps the alcohol he drank had more to do with it, than my displaying a fool of him however,” Tiller responds, chuckling afterward as he points his arm towards the adventurer best he could under the influence of the alcohol.

         “Aye,” Ninex replies, his remark only accompanied by some laughter. He gives the tavern owner a quick mocking salute and a big grin then stumbles away down the hall.

         A traveler of sorts approaches Ninex as Tiller departs, desiring to make small talk.

         “What a joy it must be to own a lively and joyous tavern such as this. I imagine one takes pride with his work,” the traveler says as he leans against the bar.

         “Aye, this tavern is my lifelong work, and that of my father before,” Ninex responds, his voice somewhat heavy sounding. He sighs and the traveler quirks an eyebrow.

         “What's the long face for then, venerable innkeeper?” asks the traveler, a touch of concern in his voice.

         “Well, it’s my son Lowic. I think he should be here with me sometimes. He joined the service, you see, a real warrior for the country. I’ve heard very little from him ever since he went to the city. I miss teaching him how to serve drinks with me in the bar. I’m proud of him, yes, but who will carry on the family legacy should something happen to me?” Ninex explains slowly.

         “I see why you are troubled, innkeeper. You should be proud of him although it sounds as if that means you’re short on help around here,” observes the traveler, his tone sincere.

         “Well true, I do a lot of the cooking, cleaning, and bar work, but I can’t take all the credit. My wife Merenda and daughter Gallaire do as much as they can to help with the general chores. I’ve even put Tiller to work even though he says it’s no trouble to him. It helps to employ someone I can trust though, and almost since the first month we met, I trust Tiller to run the bar when I was unable to, and Tiller has never let me down,” Ninex explains. He looks to his left out a window, staring at the night sky. “By the way, traveler, I never caught your name,” Ninex says as if it just occurred to him. “Mine is Ninex if you hadn’t known.”

         As Ninex looked back to the man in front of him, he was already walking away.

         “A pleasure to meet you venerable innkeeper Ninex. The name is Rezailee, a new guide around these parts. I thank you for the drink, food, and stay your tavern offers to us for our journeys in the days to follow. Tomorrow I take another group into the dangerous lands,” Rezailee says with a simple bow, before turning back around and being on his way.

• • •

         Ninex looks over his tavern, stretching casually, trying to discern what it would take to clean up the tavern after the celebrations. A forlorn sigh escapes him as he longs for the celebrations to continue just a little longer, but business has dwindled down to just him, the bards, and a couple of passed out patrons left in the bar area. He has sent his daughter to bed a while ago, it being the latest she has ever been allowed to stay up.

         The bards wind their way through the tavern to the bar. Ninex produces a small bag, a mixture of copper and silver, and reluctantly places a gold coin on the table next to it, offering it to the bards.

         “Your payment, good sirs,” the tavern owner says with a kind smile.

         One of the bards casually grabs the bag and shakes it as if to measure its worth, then he nods at the others. The other bards smile, the lead bard grabbing the gold coin with a flourished bow.

         “A pleasure as always, Ninex,” he says with a grin. He
places the gold coin back on the table and all of them head to their separate rooms.

         “Keep the change,” one of the bards calls back, referring to the rooming they just purchased.

         The tavern owner watches the bards make their way upstairs and is about ready to rise up from his chair to start putting order to the tavern when he hears a whining creak from behind him. He spins around cautiously as the door to his establishment opens. A tall dark man with a bright golden tint to his eye color and closely cropped brown hair enters. He carries an odd looking slightly curved sheath at his side and it is plainly obvious to Ninex that the late arriving stranger carries other arms as well.

         “A bit late to be waltzing into taverns looking for stay, traveler.” Ninex tries not to appear intimidated.

         The stranger makes no move to intimidate, but his mere presence gives Ninex an uneasy feeling of trouble waiting to happen. At first glance, he appears to be a drow, if his features are slightly different.

         The traveler pays no heed to the tavern owner’s prattling. He puts down a pile of silver that would pay for more than one night of stay.

         Ninex shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “But... you seem to be lucky I happen to be up and awake at this hour because of the celebrations. Come in. Make yourself comfortable. Unmarked rooms are available,” Ninex interjects quickly, not wanting to pass up the amount of payment he’d just received from this generous stranger.

         The stranger says nothing, merely grunts as he heads to the stairway.

         “Remember to put a tag on the door knob to indicate that the room is taken.” Ninex calls after him as he collects up the silver.