Untitled

A Generous Gesture

Chapter One

A Generous Gesture

The dirt path was dirty. Obviously, yet more than that, it was littered. Littered with lost dreams of the travelers before him. And of course, their bodily remains. Assorted limbs were strewn across the narrow road, pools of blood indicating the trail where the unlucky survivors were dragged off into the unwelcoming pines.

Our great protagonist lifted himself from the ground where he was crouching. Mustering his staggering height of almost four feet, he shrugged, "at least someone will honor Drigus with a party."

Having given what he considered the proper respect for the poor souls who travelled before him, he increased his stroll into a reasonable jog in order to reach the next town before dark.

Trendbug, as was implicated by his map, was a small, secluded town. A low wooden palisade surrounded the one hundred or so small wooden houses with thatched roofs. Passing through the villager's fields, our hero could see the last rays of sunlight shining through the panes of a windmill, right before he entered the town, unhindered by the watchman.

Naturally, he sought out the local tavern. While "The Bug's Juice" wasn't the most appetizing name, the tavern looked like a real classic. Our hero walked in, unnoticed as usual. The smell of hot chicken, potatoes and beer pervaded the warm, noisy room. Heading straight for the bar, he snatched a purse from a drunken figure. He then climbed up upon one of the stools and surveyed the room. Looking out upon the five tables and small stage, he slammed his stolen coin upon the bar and shouted out with all his might: "next round is on me!".

As you can imagine, such a declaration was received with a unanimous roar of delight. Ironically, the loudest roar came from the very man who was funding this generous gesture. As he stood and raised his tankard, his black hood fell back, revealing a truly repulsive scarred furry face. 

"My good little fellow!" He bellowed, towering over our hero and all those around him. At this point our little brave halfling gave a small gulp, realizing how he just robbed the strongest man(?) in the room. As the stranger approached him, he realized this stranger was also the most heavily armed, for a great axe was leaning against the bar next to the stool. Before he could decide whether to stab him in the crotch or run, the hulking figure sat down at a table and rumbled: "I must eat with you!"

Their meal was a savory one, with the of the legend of Belrog the Great being reciting in the background. After certifying that "eat with you" was not synonymous for eat-you-while-you-are-still-conscious, our hero relaxed and began to take an interest in his new companion. 

"My name is Bagoop, but you should call me Braga the Great" the monster said between long draughts of ale.

"Is that so? and pray tell what makes you deserving of such a title?"

"I am a great warrior!" He huffed.

"Well are as good as Belrog? Slayer of the Obese dragon and savior of Grandstorm city?" our hero laughed.

Braga looked hurt and mumbled: "How hard can it be to kill a slow fat dragon?". 

Mustering his pride and intimidation, he looked hard at the halfling and demanded: "and who are you little man? I can stomp on you, yet you question my greatness!?".

Unfazed, our hero leaned forward and said proudly: "I am nobody". 

"And you're proud of such a pathetic title?" Braga sputtered.

"I am faithful of Drigus, and you may call me Merry". 

Braga re-examined the "little man". The dusty leather armour, the numerous dagger hilts protruding from various points. Yet above all the mischievous green eyes, staring at him through thick dark locks of hair. Eyes that portrayed restlessness, looking for something interesting that might ignite a laugh from his already curved mouth. 

"Gods" spat Braga, "waste of time. And you choose Drigus god of thieves?? You should at least honour Pragor the warrior!". 

Usually, Merry would happily delve into a conversation such as this, and then perhaps dazzle his opponent with a small burst of magic. However, he was starting to doubt Braga's intelligence the more he talked with him. 

"How about this", Merry suggested. "You drink another Bug Juice special, and tomorrow we go find whatever is killing off the villagers in the woods. I get to see if you're actually capable, and we'll be nicely rewarded". 

 The opportunity to prove himself was exactly what Braga was looking for and he readily agreed. So Merry fetched Braga another tankard, but not before murmuring over it an incantation that would be sure to knock out Braga and hopefully make him forget he ever owned a penny.