The Saga of Silver Wolf

Gringor’s Tavern

         Gringor’s Tavern
Bastion Station was the hub of the universe. There was no space-faring creature that did not know of Bastion Station and the wonders it contained. In the tightly packed station you could find anything that was for sale, and many things that were not.

         The Station was host to a myriad of shops and stores, warehouses and businesses; it was home to the Arena, a brutal forum where creatures living, undead, and mechanical could fight one another for Universal Credits. It was also home to Santok’s Emporium, the largest “Mech-n-Tech” store in the universe, where just about every piece of technology ever created could be found—for a price.

         There were many unusual places within the Station’s armoured hull; one of those was Gringor’s Tavern, a medieval Earth-themed drinking establishment. The tavern was a low-beamed affair with roaring open fireplaces, long, dark-stained tables with benches and stools scattered around. There was no outward sign of technology here; it was all hidden to help maintain the illusion of “The Olde World

         The tavern was an oddity, a curio, and it stood out like a sore thumb. As you walked down one of the hundreds of avenues within the Station, you would pass shops with beeping, twirling gadgets or restaurants with robot waiters that rolled on a single wheel between the customers’ tables. Then you would come on Gringor’s Tavern. There were no beeping gadgets here or robots rushing to serve you, there was just the warmth of the open flame and the sounds of laughter as friends and colleagues drank from their wooden tankards. Ladies of delicate disposition would sip at their wine and the more robust characters would sing and dance on the open stage within. It was indeed an oddity; it was also one of the most popular places to visit, according to the advertisements for Bastion Station.

         The owner of this popular tavern was a human named Gringor, a name as widely known as that of the Station itself. He is one of the few men to have walked hand-in-hand with greatness, to have been a part of greatness, and to have become greatness himself. He was a man of middle years who had a disposition to help those less fortunate than him; he also had an extremely sarcastic turn of mouth and felt no compunction at unleashing his tongue should he feel the need. His celebrity was due in part to the heroic deeds that he had undertaken, but also from his comradeship with the legendary Silver Wolf.

         On this night, the tavern was filling fast, with more customers than was usual. Gringor looked around at the faces as they arrived. Many were young, accompanied by friends looking for a fun night out; there were familiar faces, some were Gringor’s friends and others were simply regulars. Among the crowd were the rich, the famous, and the poor.

         There had been one message on the advertisement, one that Gringor had stipulated as paramount to all others: When you were in the tavern you were equal to everyone else—money, power, and fame would mean nothing. Celebrities would sit next to the common man, business tycoons would rub shoulders with paupers, and rulers would be seated beside the workers. The elderly would be placed with the young, the xenophobic with alien beings, and the nigh surgically clean with the great unwashed.

         History always records the events that unfold, but it is only truly recorded by those who bear witness to the events; when the witness tells of these events, it becomes a story.

         That was the reason for this night, and perhaps for a few more nights to follow. Everyone had a story to tell, a story that had been practised, polished, and refined to perfection before being presented to the world. Many had heard rumours from a friend of a friend and had pestered Gringor for an age before he’d finally capitulated: Tonight he would tell of the saga that was Silver Wolf.

         The tavern was approaching capacity and there was still a large throng of people waiting to get in. The local pubs, clubs, and restaurants had agreed to seat the overflow crowd once his place was full; their businesses would benefit from the custom, because they would all be able to hear the tale—his good friend Charatan had made sure of that; a little magic could do wonders for a speech.

         Gringor grabbed at his drink and moved toward the one lone chair that sat empty beside the main fireplace. There was an immediate silence and expectant hush as all eyes both inside and out followed him with reverence and awe. “Ahem. Ladies and Gentlemen, Orcs, Goblins, Trolls, and everything else—welcome to Gringor’s Tavern. As you are all aware, I have decided after much pestering to give an audience and tell you all of Silver Wolf’s adventures,” he announced.

         There was enthusiastic applause from the crowd. They had waited a long time for the tale.

         “Before I begin, I must point out a quirk to the storytelling: I will tell the tale from my point of view only from when I was actually present; many events of importance happened when I was not there, but having heard accounts or read reports, I will relate them—though greatly embellished—to you in third-person.”
Nervous laughter followed the explanation.

         “Now, I’m not gonna apologise if I offend anybody. I was there and I know the facts, so if I hurt your feelings or offend your sensibilities—well, just suck it up and keep listening.” Gringor drank from his tankard and took his seat before he spoke again. “I am not from this place”—Gringor waved his arm to capture Bastion Station—“I am not even from this universe. I come from a simpler place where magic doesn’t exist and we have creatures the likes of which you wouldn’t believe.”

         There was a gasp from some of the younger members of the audience and a few nervous coughs from others.

         “I was the second in command of a great ship, one of the most impressive from my universe, although it certainly was a bit smaller than some I have seen docking here. It was called the Wolf’s Maw, and it moved though space like a predator on the hunt; even when its engines were only at sub-light speed, the ship gave off the attitude of sudden and terrible violence as it moved at a swift and deadly pace.

         “The ship was long but not thin, and was identifiable by three main parts: the forward section where the Bridge was located; the much larger middle section, which housed the crew and contained several hanger decks, hydroponics, and most of the recreational facilities, as well as the armoury, and engineering; and the aft section, which housed the engines. Each of the three sections were connected via a rotating cylindrical mechanism; around each of the two cylinders was a large ring, each parallel to the other and connected to its respective cylinder via four large, square-ish structures, which resembled a small 20th-century Earth skyscraper. Joining these two immense rings together were four struts that ran the length of the middle section of the ship; each of the four struts contained ten heavily built weapons platforms capable of dealing great destruction; the struts were able to rotate along their axis, allowing the weapons platforms to fire at almost any angle. The two cylinders that connected the great ship together could rotate around the ship, spinning the rings and their struts, which gave the Wolf’s Maw an unparalleled advantage in most battles in that the ship could fire on multiple targets in one motion without much manoeuvring.

         “We had a great crew . . .

         Malek, our Science Officer an over eager and slightly fawning little runt of a man but he does have a brilliant mind. Alinak, the ships pilot, a real cocky, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants jock, nice kid though. Tallakor worked navigation whilst his twin brother Tanner dealt with security and ships weapons. Not only did these two look alike, but they sounded the same too and both knew what the other was thinking. I tell ya, I would not want to play cards against these guys.
         Shadik was the third in command and was one of the sneakiest tacticians I have worked with. Then there was Ferne 88, some kind of weird experiment but damned easy on the eye. And that brings me onto Neera, the head chef, a pretty woman but a mouth that could strip the paint from a wall. Avad was in-charge of stores and personal weapons, an ex-special forces soldier; he never did go on many away missions though, it seems that some pretty bad mojo happened to this guy. And finally, we have Hamish and Gyaneshwar, these two are a right pair, thick as thieves and the first sign of trouble was these two with their heads together.

         “The captain of this fearsome vessel was Silver Wolf, a man who demanded the utmost respect from the rest of his crew. Now, as it so happens, our first story takes us on a journey unlike any other recorded, and certainly into places never before heard of . . .”