The Golden Flute (Open)

[BattleMage]

"Come one come all..." The mans voice squeaked catching my attention, he was pretty weird looking. The first thing I established was that he was selling something. "Legend has it that long ago their was a maiden who roamed throughout Concordia. She seduced travellers who walked the South Road with music from her golden flute. The flute was so magical it was rumored to raise the dead and reverse illnesses, making it a very valuable to my employer."

The tall man paused momentarily catching his breathe and looking out to the crowd that had gathered around him. I didn't understand why I was so drawn into what he was saying. There was just something pushing me closer. The feeling made the hair on my neck stand erect. I didn't quite know what was going on.

"My employer is willing to pay the team brave enough to seek this prize three thousand gold pieces. Haste is of great importance though so I am extending this invitation now only. Whoever seeks adventure and a hefty bounty in gold, please step forward."

I guess that's all it took for me to step forward. The small town living of Underwood wasn't really my style and I was dying for adventure after my return from Radasanth. Not to mention I was broke and work was pretty hard to come across now a days in Corone. Luckily I was first to step up because it sounded like a couple other guys jumped into line right behind me.

"What is your name thrill seeker?" The tall quirky man asked, glancing just above the brim of his reading glasses. His look and physique hinted that he was more feminine than a guy should be.

"Derrick Magnum."

"Alright I just have to make sure you understand that by signing this you are agreeing to bring back the flute upon its retrieval." From a cluttered breifcase the man pulled out a wrinkled paper and passed it my way. He obviously wasn't very organized, which made me question how legit this whole thing really was.

"At which point do I get my cut of the gold?" I gave the guy a look that hinted disbelief.

"When you bring my employer the flute. There is no time for this Derrick, you're either in or not. Make your choice."

I didn't understand the rush, but I signed the paper anyway. It basically just mentioned said "flute" and how I agree to hand it over when the time comes. I just guessed it was some legal bull.

"Alright all done Derrick just stand over there." The purple suited man pointed to the back of his caravan and began to address the guys who had lined up behind me. "Now who can I sign up next!"

[Psycho Chef]

"Go to Underwood! They have all the herbs you could possibly need, Vincent!"

The hopelessly stranded man sighed as he held a small bag of parsley. It was fresh and pungent, certainly some of the best he'd seen in his life. However, it was the only edible herb that the nursery had on them. Not in stock. Or season. Ever.

"Just a day's walk away...Jesus my feet hurt." He complained as he limped along the tough, dirt path. It was a sunny day, with just the slightest breeze that went through his short hair. It was a very refreshing feeling to know his sweat was doing its job in keeping him cool.

Feels like yesterday when I couldn't stand to sweat. Can't believe I'm so damn grateful for it now...

The journey, and to the former earth born chef it could only be considered such, had given him time to reflect on the days of cars, buses, and even bicycles. He'd kill a small child for a bike right about now. Well, maybe just break his legs...and if he was possessed. Or maybe I'd kill him if he was possessed...and then break his legs just to be safe. He thought as he fished out his ration of home cooked beef jerky. It was going to be a long walk back to the outskirts of Radasanth.

It wasn't so bad living on this rock called Althanas. Dreams were reality and the reality of things was that it was all a hellish nightmare. Freddy and his scissor hands were as dull as a piece of blank paper compared to the shit he saw on a daily basis. Who knew that a half dwarf, quarter snake, quarter demon was possible? He wasn't even sure what quarter was demon on the guy until he burped a small fire ball.

"Hope the tavern is alright..." He worried as he chewed on jerky.

The old couple that ran the little establishment had given him a job as a cook (he was a chef, on his way to Master Chef even, but that's old news now) upon seeing him fend off a couple of would be thieves outside their place of business. Little did they know of his intense love for food or what they had gotten themselves into, business wise. The new dish (aside from the plain oatmeal they had only been selling) had caused quite a commotion among the small community. The Inferno Omelet of Fiery Doom and Destruction was a huge hit and they could hardly keep up with the demand. It was a small, meant for thirty people max, but that didn't stop a line from forming around the building. Upon running out of his green onions, parsley, and various other little ingredients, he'd been sent by them to this...place.

He shrugged his pack a little on his shoulder to feel a bit more comfortable and noticed a crowd had formed near the center of the small town, near its rather plain water fountain (he was surprised they even had a one, let alone a working one). A man dressed rather loudly broadcasted about some silly legend about some silly flute. It all sounded, well, stupid.

"...brave enough to seek this prize three thousand gold pieces..."

Vincent stopped moving and his mind raced with the possibilities of what he could do with that much money, no, even just a portion of that much gold. He hadn't quite grabbed the economic concepts of this world completely, but even he knew three thousand wasn't anything to lift your nose at; he could definitely upgrade his knife set or have it replicated with a stronger metal. Great for cooking. Great for killing.

He smoothly slid into the crowd and stepped up behind a man about his age, clearly forged from this world and not his own. He'd run into a man from earth once. It was unlucky for Vincent that they had met in a room inside the Citadel. Yay for dying! He thought sourly as his turn to talk to the used car salesman came up.

"You certainly look like a unique individual! I'd like to bet you can help this strapping young man get the job done in a flash!!" He virtually screamed.

"Yea, uh, I'm right here. Turn it down from eleven please."

"I'm sorry, what??!"

"Nothing..." Vincent sighed as he realized no one here would get the joke. "I'd like to help find this frog."

"Flute."

"Yea, that thing. I'm a sucker for music." More like money.

"You're a sucker for bringing the dead back to life to feast on the living???" The screeching tree of a man yelled.

"...Sure."

"Then just sign right here!"" He exclaimed with a forced smile.

As Vincent wrote down Vinny (just because this document looked a little suspicious), he could see a nearly desperate shake in the man's hands as he held the paper. It was brief, but distinct. It was the nervous shake of fear. Or dread. Something was off but he couldn't tell.

As the seconds ticked by as he lifted his pen from the paper, he could feel the parsley slowly dying. It was as if the bag had gotten heavy with the weight of death. Vincent was no psychic, but even that seemed like a bad sign to him.