Wanted: An Adventure (Solo)

[Liam Sagewood]

“You know, once upon a time, I wanted nothing more than to explore Althanas,” Liam told the barkeeper as he emptied the glass of water that had been placed in front of him. He threw a pair of gold coins on the bar and nodded at the bottle of brandy on the counter directly in front of him. As soon as the glass was poured, he ran a small electric current through it and took a drink.

“Nice and… sparky,” he said, smiling at the barkeep, who rolled his eyes. He had seen this act before, the last four days that the young man had been staying at the end. He shrugged as though he hadn’t seen anything and went back to his work while Liam nursed his empty glass. He’d ask when he wanted another drink and both men understood this.

“Adventure’s hard to come by, though, isn’t it?” he asked, causing the bartender to come up short. “I hear all these stories of great villains and heroes of the world, and much of it starts in bars like this. Four days have passed for me, and no one of even passing interest has come in.”

The barkeep laughed grimly at the young man, before finally saying something.

“You’re relying on a bunch of old, clichéd tales as the basis of your adventure? Now that’s actually funny as hell,” he said, picking up the young man’s glass a refilling it. “This one’s on the house.”

He placed the glass in front of the boy and motioned for him to drink, which he did. “Now let me tell you a couple of things about the ‘adventurers’ that have passed through this bar. Most of them didn’t hit the bars until well after their adventure had finished, and the few who do frequent anything like our establishment tend to be well past their prime, you catch my drift?”

“There’s a lot more to be gained by seeking adventure out in the world than by sitting here in this pub night after night waiting for it to find you. You want somewhere to start out, though? I might be able to help you there, and get you some coin in the process. A couple of towns over there have been a string of bandit raids. A travelling merchant passed the news on to me last night while you were nursing your glass, told me to warn travelers away from the town. However, for adventurous types, I’m sure the local sheriff would be more than happy for some extra manpower in hunting down these guys. From what I heard, the ones who have been killed during the raids are carrying the standard issue of the Corone military. They’re probably deserters, attacking out of desperation because they lack supplies or any safe escape from the island. They’ll set up camp for awhile, maybe make it permanent if they’re really as stupid as they seem. If they’re smart, they’ll get the goods they need and head for the nearest harbor with a captain willing to take their money for safe passage across. At worst, they’ll fall to infighting. At best, they’ll more likely be taken out by whatever sellswords come across the town looking to earn a quick gold by hunting deserters.”

“If you’re up for it, the work ain’t glamorous, but it’s better than sitting here every night hugging that silver glass, isn’t it?”

Liam finished his drink in a single swallow and slammed the glass down on the bar with an evil smirk.

“You have a point. If nothing’s finding me, I’ll just have to search it out,” he tossed ten gold on the bar, payment for the information more than the drink. He turned on his heel and walked out.

“Take my advice, Liam. Never discount the word on the street when you’re starting out. If you want to make a name for yourself in any profession, you need to know as much about it as possible. If you’re headed east, try going into Radasanthia. There are a number of mercenary companies looking for hirelings with combat training.”

The young Salvarn noble waved his hand over his head for a moment before the door shut behind him. The bartender was right. The job he had ahead of him wasn’t glamorous, but it was a hell of a lot more exciting than working his liver overtime.

[Liam Sagewood]

Unable to find an inn, Liam decided it might just be a better idea to camp on the side of the road. Under the cover of starry night, the road looked almost preternaturally deserted, as though it had been haunted for many years. The young noble new this was untrue, of course, but the quiet still unnerved him. Nothing so small as a rat seemed to call this stretch of the highway home.

“I wonder if those rogues that have been raiding the village have set up camp near here,” he wondered aloud, trying vainly to organize his thoughts into a coherent pattern. Even though he had not officially accepted a job yet, he still wanted to figure out what it was he would have to do.

Well, he thought, there are a few ways to go about this, but I can’t help but think about what that bartender said about the idea of a mercenary company over in Radasanthia. I could use the reward money to buy my way in, I suppose, or maybe convince the Sherrif of the village to write a letter of recommendation based on my service.

As these thoughts passed through his head, he settled down onto the bedroll he had brought with him. He stared up into the branches of the tree above him as he tried his damnedest to fall asleep. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could not prevent his mind from working overtime trying to figure out how best to profit from this situation. He couldn’t easily earn the loyalty of the deserters-turned-bandits, since they’d already abandoned their duties once.

The Corone military should have come to handle them personally. Liam considered that thought for a moment and discarded it, however. There was way too much on the plate of that particular military with the problems between them and the Rangers to even consider sending out enough soldiers to clear out however many deserters there were.

A sudden sound brought Liam out of his reverie and onto his feet, short sword at the ready. He groped in the darkness for his walking stick, but couldn’t find it. He cursed under his breath as he looked to the dying fire next to him. On a night as clear as this, the smoke would likely be visible for miles.

“Couldn’t go without a fire, could ya, boyo?” a raspy voice said from behind the tree. “Those small comforts cost folks their lives around these parts, don’cha know.”

Sighing, Liam readied his blade, wishing that he had been able to find his staff before being confronted. The voice laughed and stepped out from the shadows.

“I swear, enough of you soldier types come through my stretch of the road for me to force my own military into service. Now… there’s an idea. How’d you like to be my first recruit, boyo?” the man asked.

Liam looked the old guy over for a few moments. He was dressed in a remarkably dirty fashion: dusty old robes broken and tattered by what appeared to be claws, a wolf’s or maybe even a bear’s.

“What are you talking about? I’m not a soldier. I’m headed to the village to get rid of all the deserters, not to join up with them.”

“Oh,” the old man said, seemingly disappointed. “All right, boys, you can go back to sleep for now. This one’s not involved with the ones disrupting my research!”

Loud groans answered the old man’s cry, and the sounds of shifting dirt around the young man. In the almost light, he saw dozens of shapes disappearing around him, seeming to sink into the earth.

“Forget what you saw here,” the old man said, suddenly losing the less civilized affectation to his voice. “There are those of us in Corone who thrive off of the war. My research, in particular, has never gone so well with all the fresh corpses around. On the other hand, those bandits, the deserters, keep burning my research specimens. How’s an old necromancer supposed to get anything done when all of his materials keep getting reduced to ash?”

Liam felt compelled to respond to the question in some form. “I don’t know… Have you tried animating the ashes? I’ve heard while I was in Salvar that the ashes still hold a bond on the souls of the dead. It could be worth looking into, perhaps.”

“That’s an interesting proposition. I’ll try it. I prefer recently dead corpses who’ve barely gotten cold, but the burnt up ashes could open a new road of research that few necromancers have crossed. Either way, if you’re here to kill those deserters, just take the head of the leader to the Sherriff when you’re done. I’ll personally reward you to leave the bodies of the others as unscathed as possible… after you’ve killed them, of course. I can reattach lost limbs, but I can’t reanimate a wet paste.”

“I’ll consider your request, necromancer,” Liam said. The more profit he could make off of this expedition the better. Gold was just another kind of power, and one that could be used to acquire almost any other kind of power.

“That’s all I ask. Now, here, take your bloody walking stick and get out of here. My pets don’t feed often, but this blighted land is our domain. I keep them as under control as I can. Magically reanimated corpses make for great mindless servants, but sometimes they will attack people who aren’t me just because they aren’t me. I have to find a fix for that.”

“Yes, I suppose you do,” Liam said as he took his staff from the old man. “Now, I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what you did to my staff? It’s half of my preferred weapon, after all.”

“Nothing much. Let’s just say that it’ll let me keep tabs on you, and if you lied to me, it will make it very easy for me to kill you.”

“Fine… very well. You’ll remove this curse as soon as I finish with this little job, though, I imagine?”

“Of course, and you’ll get your reward. It’ll be much appreciated, I’m certain.”

With that Liam nodded at the man and turned toward the road. The sooner he was out of the necromancer’s land claim, the better.

[Liam Sagewood]

He got to the town a few hours later. He checked around with the locals, and learned quickly that there were indeed bandits in the area, all using the Corone standard issue equipment. They weren’t very organized, and their leader, if he could even be called that, was known by face in the town. His name was Willem, and he was fairly well known for his immense bloodlust. This, of course, meant that there was a large likelihood that the Sherriff would recognize the head of the man and pay top dollar for the bounty on his head.

“This just keeps getting better,” Liam said to himself as he knocked on the door to the Sherriff’s office, a small, one room building. The man inside said that he should enter and Liam opened the door.

The room was small, even by village standards. It barely fit a pair of jail cells and the Sherriff’s desk. There was no one in the cells, but a tall, sandy blond man wearing a pair of burlap pants and a two-sizes-too-small vest with a Sherriff’s badge was standing by the desk, staring at a hand full of papers with an uncomprehending expression on his face.

“What can I do for you?” he asked without looking up from his notes.

“I’m wondering if you can provide me with any information on the deserters that seem to be plaguing your countryside,” Liam responded, his hand fiddling with the pommel of his short sword.

“Ah, another bounty hunter,” the Sherriff said as he looked up from his notes. The man’s green eyes appraised the young man for a few moments before he nodded. “Yeah, I can tell you pretty much whatever you want about them, except where they’re camped. I’m the third Sherriff we’ve had in as many weeks. I was only picked because I know how to read and write to top it off, if you believe it.”

“I believe it. What’s with the outfit, though?”

“Well, the first Sherriff that was killed wore this… stuff, and I’ve been asked to continue the ‘tradition’ by wearing it for at least a week in his honor. Itches something horrible though, I’ll tell you.”

“All right, which way do they typically attack from?”

“A different direction every few days. The circle the outskirts of the town and attack from a different direction every night. The military won’t help, so I have the locals from the tavern taking turns keeping watch in all directions in exchange for ale on the Sherriff’s tab.”

“You have enough put back to cover the expenses, I hope?” Liam asked, hinting that he was worried he wouldn’t be paid if he got the job done.

“We collect taxes for the Corone government on top of everything else that is public service related. The tax collector hasn’t been by in three years, though, so we have a bit of a stockpile at the local bank that we use in case of emergencies like this one. Yes, we have enough money. The war has made tax collection hard for the government, and they’re not willing to risk a collector on a town that averages less than less than a third of a percent of their gross taxable income.”

“That’s… a rather intelligent summation of the problem.”

“I was the town doctor before being pushed into the role of Sherriff. I studied in Radasanthia, and then visited Raiaera and Alerar for a few months each in my youth. I’m fairly well versed in such trivia. With the war going on, we’re not getting any help, and this is my home town. I have to do what I can to help.”

“Admirable. So they attack from a different direction each day. Is there a direction they tend to avoid attacking from?”

The Sherriff thought about it for a few moments and then nodded before saying, “Yeah, now that you mention it. They’ve attacked from the northeast one time that I’m aware of, and haven’t troubled us from that front since. You don’t think?”

“They’re avoiding attacking from the direction of their hideout? I consider it more than likely. I’ve read books on military strategy, and attacking from fronts where your headquarters is not located is a common diversionary tactic to draw attention away from the real location. The Willem guy must be quite a decent commander.”

“You sound impressed,” the Sherriff said.

“No. I’m disappointed. He’s decent, but not great, not even good. If you’re attacking from all directions, you should make sure to attack from all directions equally, but also make it seem random. That way, there’s no way for anyone to tell which way you’re really coming from. I’ll check the northeast forest around town. They can’t be camped more than two or three miles from here. If I don’t come back, you’ve saved some money. If I come back with his head, I expect the bounty paid, and if you think I merit it, a letter of recommendation to the Radasanthian mercenary company of my choice.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s acceptable,” the Sherriff said easily. “Just be careful. We’ve lost ten mercs in the previous week and a half alone. Don’t overdo it.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Liam said easily. He drew his sword and pushed the pommel onto the end of his walking staff. Three clicks later, it locked into place, creating a long-bladed spear.