Grim Axe's Tales of the Old World

Chapter 3 : Heroes of Mayby

To rip free a child's life from the rattish clutches of abominations' den, what better way to earn fame and fortune for those brave enough to accomplish the perilous deed?

Alas, though fame itself proved plentiful, circumstances had left us once again bereft of fortune.

Deep within the tunnels had we ventured. And deeper still had been our struggle to escape. Bolted victorious we did, but at the cost of our haul. As we had feared, the child had to be carried, which not only slowed us down, it significantly reduced our fetch.

With hordes of vermin hot on our heels, dropped or mislaid treasures peppered our tracks as we beat a hasty retreat. But retreat we did thanks to to our archer's prowess, whose arrows slowed down our pursuers long enough for our party to reach the surface, where these rat-like horrors dare not thread.

Thus, we ended with far less coinage than could have been expected for a similar foray.Fortunately, our patron, Avon Limmarra,honoured his agreement bestowing us the three hundred gold coins he had promised in exchange for the girl's safe return.

As for the rest of the villagers, their gratitude, be it eternal, carried with it the unbearable indebtedness of those unable to bestow endowments on par with their thankfulness.

Fifty gold coins was all they could scrounge for our trouble, though they treated us as heroes. They insisted on holding a banquet in our honour. Our party, naturally, got seated at the head table. Music and merriments followed.

When the time came for us to tell our tale of adventure, the task was given to the best haranguer among us, which I am ashamed to report, was the dwarf.

A pipe in one hand, a pitcher in the other (and most of it's content down his belly), using our table as his stage, he recounted our exploits with much gusto and spilled ale to the delight of the assembled populace.

Still groggy from the night before had we gathered on the banks of the river Aver at the very cusp of dawn. There, we were joined by Brann, the ferryman who offered to serve as our guide.

Brann, we discovered, doubled as the local game keeper and consequently spent most of his free time in the surrounding countryside. To say he knew the area well would be an understatement. Indeed, had it not been for his precious help, we would have lost precious time in our hunt.

So laudatory was our friend in describing Brann's contribution to the cause that clamour arose from the assembled townsmen as they insisted a chair be added to our table so he could join us, as a Hero of Mayby.

While the ferryman had indeed been of help, we graciously withheld the terms of our agreements. Far from being a coward, indeed valour did he possess, he had been more of a henchman than a genuine volunteer.

We had offered him a stipend of two scores and ten gold crowns for his service, halved if he chose not to follow us into battle, the latter deal he promptly accepted. Brann thus had offered to serve as our guide and witness, promising to alert the village should we never emerge from whatever dungeon we uncovered. This, he reasoned, gave us the assurance that Mayby could muster a rescue effort for the failed rescuers.