Draconic Sphere Ω

Chapter 1: It's My Life, Okay??

"Which way to the Adventurer's Guild, my good man?"

The stranger, who, in light of his scarred face and menagerie of violent and racist tattoos, could only generously be described as "good," squinted Brunhild up and down. "You mean mercenaries, or elf-loving potholers with a death wish?"

"Uhhh..." Brunhild twiddled the end of her beard.

"You look like the elf-lovin' type. You want Feenschwanz."

"Oh." Brunhild laughed unconvincingly in an attempt to relieve the tension. "A dwarvish name."

"Some stupid play on words. You go there, you'll fit right in. If you'll excuse me now, I've got some lurking to do."

"And where is Feenschwanz?" said Brunhild to the man's back as he slunk into the dark alley from whence he came. Only, not loudly enough so he could actually hear.

In a marginally less dingy part of town, Brunhild found a kindly-looking old woman at a well, rubbing wet clothes across a washboard. "Excuse me, but can you direct me to Feenschwanz?"

"Feenschwanz?" said the old lady, eyes going wide. "You don't want to go to Feenschwanz. A young man like you could be doing so many respectable things with your life! Have you ever considered working in a forge?"

Brunhild went red, said nothing and fervently hoped that the old lady would think of one of the myriad of reasons not to have just said the thing that she had just said.

"A young man like you, strong arms like that, the ladies would love you! Why don't you go to Hans Eisenfaust down the road and ask him if he needs an apprentice, hey?"

"I'm a woman, and probably older than you! And I like men! Mostly! And I have thought about working in a forge, just about every day of my life! And do you know, after so much thinking I've come to a pretty definitive conclusion about forges!"

Brunhild was thirty-four, still barely an adult in dwarf terms, but the old lady didn't need to know that. It was the principle of the thing.

The old lady's eyes went wide. "Oh my my, I didn't mean to offend. You can find Feenschwanz in the north end of the Temple district. But I'm just saying, they're pretty weird down there..."

Two hours later, Brunhild had asked for directions from five other people, and was starting to get a distinct impression of Feenschwanz's reputation in this town.

"Excuse me," said Brunhild, pinching the bridge of her nose, "But I'd like directions to Feenschwanz, the adventurer's guild, and yes, I know the people there are weird and crazy and probably have a death wish, but this is my life and I'd just like some directions please."

The young lady Brunhild had stopped wobbled slightly under the stack of boxes she was carrying. Despite her load, she smiled as if Brunhild was absolutely the person she most wished to see right now. "Oh, hello! Are you wanting to join us? Welcome! Just come this way!"

The lady hurried into the doorway that they were standing right in front of. Brunhild looked up. The sign said, "FEENSCHWANZ". To illustrate was a big, grinning fairy.

"Oh," said Brunhild. After a moment, she followed the lady in.

"Can you take these boxes to the cellar for me, Andromalius?" asked the lady brightly.

Andromalius was seven foot tall, bright red, horned, and smelled faintly of brimstone. He glowered at the lady and took the boxes in one hand. "When I am free of my servitude I will remember this, as well as every other insult you have heaped upon me, and I will come find you, and drag you with me back to hell."

Tears welled up in the corners of the lady's eyes, but her smile remained fixed in place and still looked almost genuine. "Thank you kindly, Andromalius!"

Andromalius grumbled something under his breath that sounded distinctly violent as he carried the boxes with him through a door behind the bar.

Brunhild looked around. This place looked like any old inn on off-hours, except that the few people around were delightfully colourful and varied. There was a man with messy green hair sitting at a table with some kind of bird-person. He was talking animatedly to a third, empty seat as the bird-person nodded seriously. Brunhild realised that there must be an invisible person in the empty seat, as evidenced by the levitating beer glass that seemed to be slowly emptying itself.

"Can't you do something about Andromalius, boss?" asked a rough-looking man with metal rivets embedded in his skin.

"Ahaha!" laughed a very small, old man. "Nope! Controlling what he says wasn't in the contract. I mean, apart from keeping secrets. But I can't make him stop grumbling! Ahahaha!"

"I mean, what about threats?"

"Relax, it's fine!" cried the old, small man, slapping the other man on the back (he had to stand on tiptoes to do so). "The contract is for a thousand years! So long as I have an heir, and my heir has an heir, and so on, in an unbroken chain for a millennium, Andromalius can't wreak his terrible revenge upon the world! At least, not until then! Ahahaha!"

Brunhild tore her eyes away from these fascinating people and made her way to the bar, where the lady from before was now cleaning glasses.

"A wonderfully good day to you!" cried the lady, and looked like she meant it. "I'm Wintergreen by the way. Welcome to Feenschwanz!"

"Uh... thank you," said Brunhild. "I'm Brunhild." Brunhild looked about and, for lack of a better idea, said, "Can I have an ale, please?"

"What sort? We have Tausendkraut, Hermanns Tollwutvergnügen, Schwarzes Loch..."

"Do you have, um, a beer that... isn't dwarvish?"

Wintergreen raised her eyebrows in surprise for a moment and said, "Oh, of course, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay," mumbled Brunhild as Wintergreen poured her a pint. "So... how does it work around here?"

"You'll fit right in, you'll see," said Wintergreen. "Over there is the quest board, the best time to check it is in the morning. You take a quest from the board, it's yours. It's best to find some friends to do quests with, it's safer that way."

"Okay," said Brunhild.

"We just have two rules," said Wintergreen, holding two fingers out sweetly. "One, if you break the furniture, you're supposed to pay for it. And two, if you encounter any eldritch artefact of world-ending destructive power on your quests, you're supposed to tell the boss about it."

"Who?"

"The boss," said Wintergreen, indicating the small old man from before, who appeared to be rolling a joint. "Chekhov."

Brunhild blushed. "Okay."

"Why don't you talk to those two?" asked Wintergreen, indicating a dwarf and a halfling who were sitting at the other end of the bar. "They just came in today, too."