WNADC Chap 3 - The Sword of the Moon

         It really was very nice there. Oture always attracted some of the most interesting people from all walks of life. Just sitting in the tavern and watching the other patrons was highly entertaining, even if you knew none of the people there. I made sure that I became acquainted with all the regulars. If I was to live there, I should at least know who else did the same.

         The tavern itself was an interesting place. It had an extremely long bar with plenty of space for any number of people. The stools were comfortably padded with leather and were of ample size and sturdiness to support anyone who might happen to sit on them. They had a ring around the bottom for easy access to smaller people as well. There were many tables and booths throughout the room, also padded with leather for comfort. The wood of the furniture was rich and dark, and the floor was well-polished wood as well. Various weapons and heads of trophy kills taken down by Tolin or donated by patrons lined the walls. The symbol of Delachimarron was featured prominently over the door.

         Although those of all races, creeds, states of being, etc. were allowed into the Sword of the Moon, they rarely had any problems. If an argument broke out, there was a dueling ring out back to settle the dispute. If any trouble was stirred up inside and there was refusal to take it outside, there were various unofficial bouncers to kick them out. Middy, Arlin, and Acejuk often performed this task. If none of these were around, Tolin himself would step up and kick the offender out.

         Tolin Forgeheart was a retired fighter. Many fighters ran inns and taverns when they retired, and he figured it would be a good idea. He was rugged and scarred and would still help out in a fight, but he preferred his more peaceful life in his advancing age. He was loud and brash and prone to drink, but age and long years of fighting had mellowed him out a bit. He tried to keep the peace as much as possible, and he was damn good at it. Few others could have kept peace in such a diverse group.

         It was well-known among certain circles yet little spoken of that Tolin was very well-connected. He had made many contacts during his campaigns, and his skill with his hands had made him more than qualified for practice as a rogue. He had also fashioned weapons in his younger years before a cleric of Avekx had maimed his hand. This spread his influence wider than many would expect. Also, his position as a tavern-keeper made him privy to all the latest rumors.

         Tolin’s wife Dara was boisterous and infinitely motherly. She took me under her wing first thing and was delighted when she found that I loved to cook. She herself was considered the best chef in the land, and not many people could resist a chance to eat at the Sword on a trip through Oture. She enjoyed a good, rowdy crowd, but if she heard someone get out of hand and Tolin wasn’t taking care of it, she’d be out of the kitchen with a frying pan in an instant. And from what I saw, that frying pan had recently been on the stove before she used it as an instrument of discipline. Granted, those who the pan had been applied to never tended to cause trouble again. The mere threat of an angry female dwarf with a frying pan was usually enough deterrence.

         Acejuk, the orc who found me, was often at the tavern. His tribe stayed near the city and aided them when they required it. They also kept the area around clear of trouble for travelers. Like most orcs, he was lacking in hygiene and formal education. His speech carried the usual impediment of an orc, but he was quite intelligent for his race. Tactically speaking, he was brilliant. Though a small tribe, he had managed to keep the Moonshield tribe from being trampled by the evil tribes around. He managed to raise the tribe above their fellows’ evil reputation and established it as a well-respected tribe whose ire was to be feared.

         You’d never know it from watching him in the Sword. He just acted like a big, friendly clown. Orcs tend towards the drunk, everyone knows. However, much more little-known is the fact that orcs love sugar. Candy, chocolate, cookies, and anything else like that are utter kryptonite to an orc. Once they figured out that I enjoyed baking and gave out cookies often, he and his men were attracted me like flies to honey. They were really fun, too, so it wasn’t a bad thing. They became my unofficial bodyguards whenever it was needed. Orcs in general are very protective of their women and children. These, being good as well as being orcs, were immensely protective of me. They also served as unofficial bouncers when needed, for danger to their supply of ale was not ever tolerated and they were good friends with Tolin.

         Midnight Voyager always fascinated me. She was a fixture in the tavern; when she wasn’t out wandering, she’d rest in her usual chair in the corner. Being a ranger, she usually lived off the land when she needed, yet her adventuring exploits usually were enough to make a decent living. She was hailed as the general expert in acquiring things, exploring places, or tracking anything living. She’d never admit it herself, but she was quite famous in her own right and had an impressive circle of contacts. Being Elven, Dwarven, and Human didn’t help her keep a low profile, yet she could easily pass as human or half-elf if she needed. And she needed a disguise for that.

         The thing that fascinated me most was her appearance. I had never before seen anyone living with skin so dead and pale. Her eyes reminded me of a vampire’s in that they were a shockingly bright color of blue. Her hair was black as pitch, and she dressed mostly in black as well. She was always distinguished by her hat and staff. The hat was a simple ranger’s fedora adorned with a silver feather and a silver band. She called her staff a walking stick though it was easily sturdy enough to fight with. It was made of blackened ironwood with silvery caps on the ends. She took to shadows naturally as if she were a shadow herself. And I always swore that everything about her screamed magic, though she never seemed to use any. Well, mostly never. I had seen her read and operate magic items before, but that can be done without being a mage.

         As I said, she was one of the unofficial bouncers. She had a strange, almost motherly way about her. If someone was causing trouble, she tended to scold them. If they caused too much, she’d bonk them with her staff. She never caused trouble herself, though she tended towards the sarcastic and opinionatedly vocal. Sometimes, she even took knights or paladins under her wing a bit and advised them in their dealings and their combat skills. They came out the better for it, I believe. I was also fairly certain she was insane. Something about her seemed unbalanced, though it usually played out as witty banter. She was a contradiction that somehow didn’t contradict, which was fairly in keeping with a follower of Delachimarron. She was intelligent, too, and moreso than she appeared. She was often reading and she unexpectedly showed knowledge in odd topics. However, when pressed, she’d simply claim to be a simple old ranger.

         NuLakh was worth mentioning as well. He was the largest specimen I had ever seen of any type of wolf. He had thick, jet black fur and brilliantly blue eyes like his master. I say master, but I should say friend or even family. He stayed by Middy’s side as much as possible, ready to protect her if the need arose. He was shockingly intelligent and could fully understand common speech, though his voice wasn’t suited to return it. He was gentle as a puppy when at peace and vicious as a hurricane in battle. He could easily be treated like a house-pet when indoors despite his size and he was usually allowed in any building.

         Veren was interesting, too. He was a paladin and a king, and as such, he was particularly shiny and good. He usually appeared in full gold plate, shined and buffed and polished to absolute perfection. Vastania’s system of laws and network of governors kept the city under control easily without his express oversight, so he was free to pursue diplomatic causes in Oture. As far as paladins went, he was particularly tolerant, and he made sure his men were the same as far as he could. He was always civil, even to those whose ideals he was set against, as long as they remained civil themselves. It was he who gave me my first ever teddy bear, Roger.

         Amusingly enough, he was particularly good friends with the Moonshield orcs. They thought it was hilarious when he claimed to be able to speak orc, and he was particularly good at emulating their form of speech. He was friendly and fair, though he made sure that justice was served. All in all, he was really a wonderful king. He would indulge in drinks at the tavern, though I never once saw him truly drunk. He had an extremely high tolerance for ale. I assume he was grateful for it, as he was often harried at home by a very demanding wife.

         I had only met his wife Caroline a few times. She had been born and raised an only child in a noble family, and it was difficult for her to get past the way that she had been indulged as a girl. She was certainly beautiful, a small amount of Elven blood adding even more to her grace. Her hair was golden blonde and her eyes were sapphire blue. Not like my straw hair and weak brown eyes. But I prefer who I am to her. Don’t get me wrong, she was an extremely sweet, gracious woman. However, I think anyone subjected to hardship comes out a better person for it.

         Arlin Half-Ogre… Everyone loved Arlin. He was big and jolly and gentle as a teddy bear to anyone smaller than him. However, he was absolutely lethal in battle and not one to be crossed for any reason. He was always excellent with children and animals. He loved me like a little sister and took it upon himself to teach me all those little things that parents try to keep their children from learning but that they find out anyway. He was extremely protective, especially in regards to me. He’d pick me up and put me on his shoulders and put up with any amount of snuggling. I often fell asleep in his lap and awoke the next morning in my bed. He was also protective of Middy, who he also treated like a little sister.

         Like Acejuk, his heritage never hindered him. He may not have been the most academically intelligent man, but he was a master of tactics at land and at sea, perfectly capable in his job of leading the Bloodmace Privateers. I jokingly called him an admiral a few times, for he had two ships of his own, but he always just laughed and shook his head. He was never a pirate in the normal sense. He only ever ransacked ships that belonged to Avekx or actual pirates and such, which was perfectly legal. He had a healthy respect for Veren and was also good friends with Acejuk, who he gambled with often. Obviously, he was unusual for a product of violence between an ogre lord and an innocent woman.

         Finally, there was the Vampire Prince Shagrath Neupraptia. I had heard of how his father was killed so many years ago in an escape from Avekx and how his mother had ascended to become a goddess when Shagrath was only a boy. He mostly sat quietly alone in the inn, watching the other people. He seemed so lonely when I first saw him that I couldn’t resist giving him a big hug and talking with him for a while. He was startled, and I could have sworn I saw Middy smiling out of the corner of my eye. He wasn’t very talkative and I was soon distracted by Dara asking for help with the cooking, but he seemed nice enough to me. I had only ever seen him talk to people extremely civilly, never like a friend. Middy was the only exception, and she talked to everyone like a friend. Whenever I saw him after, I made sure that I gave him one of my many flowers. I’d like to think it made him feel better, even if only a little.

         These were the people closest to me around this time. I wouldn’t have traded them or any moment spent with them for the world.

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         “Any luck, Middy?”

         “Nada,” Middy sighed. “It doesn’t seem that anyone I can find would like to adopt a little girl. Nobody that could compete with this granddad of hers, anyway.”

         “Well…” the king frowned deeply, watching the little girl as she gave a violet flower to Shagrath. “Maybe it won’t be needed. As long as her grandfather doesn’t know…”

         The rogue smirked wryly. “A little selective shadowin’ of the truth, mmh, Paladin?”

         Veren responded with a simple raspberry, which sent the rogue into a peal of laughter. One does not often see a king give a raspberry. “Shush, you.”