Whims of Kiraan

Rhogar grunted in frustration as he smashed his hammer into the ground. He had not yet landed a hit on Ithan, and his swings were becoming slower with each passing moment. Perhaps it was because Ithan was so much smaller than Rhogar that he could so easily avoid his attacks. Rhogar lifted his hammer up and prepared for another swing. As Ithan dashed toward him, instead of swinging the hammer, Rhogar threw it. Ithan narrowly dodged the weapon and jumped to the side just as Rhogar tried to punch him, then slashed at his arm just deep enough to draw blood.

“Hold still!” Rhogar yelled, punching at the air as Ithan continued to dance around him. He was nearly out of breath now, giving Ithan a perfect opportunity to strike. Using his glaive, Ithan pole vaulted and thrust his hooves into the dragonkin’s chest. Rhogar crashed to the ground, and Ithan stood on top of him, aiming his glaive at the dragonkin’s throat.

“The fight is over!” the overseer called. “Victory goes to Mor’lavan!” The crowd cheered as Ithan dismissed his glaive.

“Good fight,” Ithan said as he stepped off Rhogar’s chest and held out his hand.

“You too,” Rhogar groaned as he reached for Ithan’s hand. He pulled himself up from the ground with Ithan’s help. He retrieved his hammer from the edge of the arena and lumbered back over to Ithan. “You’re tougher than you look,” he continued as the pair began walking toward the gate that led out of the arena. “How long you been fightin’ for?”

“Two-ish years,” Ithan replied. He looked around the arena as they walked. The dragonkin in the crowd whooped and whistled as the next fighters‍—Dhurik and another large dragonkin‍—began entering the arena.

“Only that long?!” Rhogar cried in disbelief. “There’s no way. You’re too good to be a greenhorn.”

“I’m used to fighting things bigger than me,” Ithan said. He looked up to meet Rhogar’s eyes. The dragonkin easily stood taller than nine feet, and his shoulders stretched wider than Ithan was tall. “And you’re way bigger than me.”

“I guess I’ll just have to move faster next time,” Rhogar shrugged. “You drink any? I’m headin’ on over to Briryn’s.”

“You go on ahead,” Ithan said, stopping at the gate. “I’m going to see how Dhurik does.”

“Suit yourself,” Rhogar said. Ithan turned to watch Dhurik as Rhogar headed to the tavern. As Dhurik and his opponent approached the center of the arena, the overseer joined them and the three had the usual conversation detailing the rules of arena combat. The overseer then stepped away from the contenders to his platform on the other side of the arena.

“It is time for the last match of the day!” the overseer shouted above the roaring crowds. “Our final competitors are Dhurik the leatherworker and our very own Raskris!” The crowd’s intensity surged at the name Raskris. Ithan had not faced him in the arena, but he had overheard from some of the dragonkin in the tavern that he was a strong fighter. Dhurik would certainly have a good time fighting him. The thought crossed Ithan’s mind just as the overseer rang his bell.

Immediately, Dhurik let loose a wave of fire and charged headfirst at his opponent. Raskris held his hands out in front of him and grabbed at Dhurik’s horns before impact, only to be shoved back against the wall by the momentum. Horns still in each hand, Raskris threw Dhurik down to the ground and attempted to pin him there, but a kick to the shin from Dhurik sent him toppling to the ground himself. They rolled away from each other to regain their composure, then Dhurik charged Raskris again, this time ducking underneath the dragonkin’s grasp and delivering a powerful blow to the gut, causing Raskris to crash into the wall again. Ithan could not help but let out a whoop as the cheers around him grew louder. When the dust settled around Raskris, the dragonkin stumbled out toward Dhurik before collapsing on the ground.

“And that is a knockout!” the overseer shouted. “Victory goes to Dhurik!” A mixture of cheers and boos filled the stands as Dhurik flexed and posed in the center of the arena. “Would the winners of today’s matches please come to the center of the arena?” Ithan walked over to Dhurik along with two of the other fighters. One was another dragonkin, but the other was, to Ithan’s surprise, a dwarf. She carried a hammer almost as big as she was. He did not manage to see her fight as he had run back to the tavern to check on Fenvyre.

“That was a quick one,” Ithan said to Dhurik as he approached the minotaur.

“Don’t remind me,” Dhurik huffed. “I hate short fights.”

“Congratulations, challengers!” the overseer called as he approached the group of combatants. “You have made it through the preliminaries and the first round.” He pulled four small bags from his robe and held them out to the group. “For your victories today, you have each earned fifty gold pieces.” He handed a bag to each of them. Ithan grinned as he shook his bag, the coins jingling inside.

“Very nice,” the dwarf muttered. Ithan looked up to see her smiling as she peeked inside her bag.

“We’ll continue tomorrow at dawn,” the overseer continued. “Until then, get some well-deserved rest.” He walked through the group toward the arena’s exit. Ithan took his own leave shortly after, wanting to check back in with Fenvyre again.

“Hey!” the dwarf called before running over to Ithan’s side. “What’s your hurry?” she asked as she walked alongside him.

“I’m done here for now,” Ithan replied, trying not to pay much attention to the dwarf. “I’ve got other things to do.”

“Not even going to introduce yourself? Rude.” She stepped out in front of Ithan, blocking his path. “Name’s Brollynn.” She held up a hand to him, clearly expecting a handshake. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Mor’lavan,” Ithan sighed. He shook Brollynn’s hand half-heartedly, then tried to walk around her. She matched his steps, keeping him from passing.

“Sounds Elvish,” Brollynn said. She scanned Ithan up and down. “You don’t look like an elf to me.”

“I’m not, can you please‍—”

“Why do you have an Elvish name if you’re not an elf?”

“It’s none of your business.” Ithan was starting to get frustrated with the dwarf.

“That’s true. Just thought I’d ask. Geez, you’re really in a hurry, aren’t you?” She stepped aside, allowing Ithan to walk past. “Bye, Mor’lavan! See you tomorrow!” she called as Ithan stomped out of the arena gates back toward the inn. By the time he reached the square, Dhurik had already caught up with him.

“Got a hot date tonight, Dogboy?” the minotaur teased.

“You know full well that I don’t,” Ithan growled.

“I was just giving you a hard time,” Dhurik mumbled as the two of them entered the tavern. “Tell Tree-Hugger I said hi,” he said as he walked up to the bar to ask Briryn for a drink. Ithan headed up the stairs and stood outside Fenvyre’s room. He knocked gently on the door and was surprised to be greeted by Sonys instead of Fenvyre.

“Oh, hello there,” Sonys said. “Are you looking for Fenvyre?”

“Yeah, is she okay?” Ithan asked, trying to peer into the room behind Sonys.

“Yes, she’s fine,” Sonys replied. “We’re having some girl time, though, so you’re going to have to leave.”

“O-oh, I see,” Ithan stuttered. “Well then, I suppose I’ll see her later‍—” The door slammed shut in front of him. The sudden force made Ithan stumble backwards. Dragonkin are weird. He shrugged it off and headed back downstairs, where Briryn was waiting for him.

“Heard you did good today,” he said. “Knocked Rhogar on his rear, did you?”

“Yes sir,” Ithan replied, not realizing until after the words left his mouth that Rhogar happened to be sitting within earshot. “B-but he was a tough opponent to beat!” he cried as Rhogar looked over at him.

“Hey, greenhorn!” Rhogar called. Ithan winced, then looked back at the dragonkin. Rhogar smiled wide and held up his mug. Ithan waved nervously.

“Rhogar doesn’t hold grudges,” Briryn muttered to Ithan. “He said he offered you a drink, but you turned him down.”

“I wanted to watch Dhurik’s fight,” Ithan explained.

“Oh? How’d that go?” He poured a mug of beer and set it in front of Ithan.

“He knocked Raskris out pretty quickly,” Ithan replied.

“Nice,” Briryn smiled. “I’ve been saying Raskris needed to be taken down a few pegs.” He pushed the mug gently toward Ithan.

“Um,” Ithan mumbled as he looked at the mug. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“It’s on the house,” Briryn said. “Don’t tell me you don’t drink!”

“I’m, uh…” Ithan replied sheepishly.

“Oh, I should have guessed, you’re too young, aren’t you?” Briryn laughed. “Hang on, let me take a look at what else I’ve got.” He ducked down behind the bar. “I know I have that somewhere…” After some more shuffling beneath the bar, Briryn shot up with a glass and what appeared to be a very old bottle of wine.

“Er, isn’t that…?”

“Don’t worry, there’s no alcohol in it,” Briryn said cheerily as he opened the bottle and poured some of its contents into the glass. The liquid was a deep red, almost the color of blood. Ithan took the glass in his hand and held it up to his nose. It smelled so familiar, but he could not place where he might have picked up that scent before. He sipped at the wine and, to his delight, tasted the bold sweetness of cherries.

“It’s delicious,” Ithan said aloud as he set the glass down. He smiled at Briryn, who had been waiting for Ithan to take his first sip.

“Glad someone likes it,” Briryn said. “I was afraid it might be too sweet for my regular crowd, so I kept it back here.” He put the bottle back under the bar. “It’ll be here if you want another.”

“Where did you get this?” Ithan asked after taking another sip. The flavor was no less wonderful with the second sip.

“Oh, a traveler gave it to me as a gift years ago,” Briryn replied. “Said it was the finest in his homeland. Where’d he say he was from again…?” He scratched his head. “Ah well, one of those elven countries in the far east.” Ithan’s stomach turned.

“Sol’vara,” he muttered.

“Yes… yes, that’s it!” Briryn exclaimed. “I remember it now! He said there was a terrific vineyard near the palace there, and that was where all the finest wine of the kingdom was made.”

“A beautiful sight,” Ithan continued, staring deeply into the wine that remained in his glass.

“Oh, you’ve been all that way?” Briryn asked. Ithan did not answer. Instead, he lifted the glass up and gulped down the rest of his drink, set the glass down on the bar, and turned to leave.

“Thanks,” he said softly as he walked away and out of the tavern. Apostalite was standing at the fountain, as they usually did during the day. They were entertaining some of the dragonkin children with another one of their tales of Laht.

“…and so Laht granted the boy the ability to navigate through the dark cave, until he found his way through to the other side of the mountain.”

“Did the monster chase after him?” one of the children asked.

“Oh, it tried,” Apostalite replied. “But by the time it could reach the boy, he had already stepped out of the cave into the sunlight beyond.”

“I’m gonna be brave like the boy in the story!” another child announced. “Then one day Laht will grant me a favor, too!” The other children shouted in agreement, then scattered across the square, Apostalite smiling at them as they went. The ignan then turned toward Ithan and smiled wider.

“Have you come to hear the teachings of Laht, my lovely Mor’lavan?” they asked. Ithan pondered for a moment, then let out a sigh.

“Sure, why not?” he replied.

“Wonderful!” they cried. They sat down at the edge of the fountain and patted the stone next to them. “Come, sit with me! I shall tell you a tale that should lift your spirits!” Ithan walked over to the ignan and sat down next to them, trying not to sit too close. “Now then, the story goes like this…”

🙡◊🙣

Ithan steps carefully over a pile of dust and bone. He does not want to give himself away before he reaches the cave’s exit. After hours of wandering, he finally sees light and rushes toward it. As he passes through the mouth of the cave, he looks up and lets out a sigh of relief. The sun shines brightly here, bathing all it touches in beautiful sunlight. But as he gazes at the sky, he sees a great shadow cover the sun. He watches, horrified, as the light vanishes from the land, and as he turns to face the cave again, he is devoured by the monster within.

🙠◊🙢

A knock on Ithan’s door jolted him awake from another strange dream. They were so frequent now; perhaps it was because he was so close to this City of Living Trees. He rolled out of bed and meandered over to the door. Unit 17 stood there, stiff as stone.

“Oh, hello there,” Ithan said to the terran.

“Greetings, citizen,” Unit 17 droned. “Your presence has been requested on the ground floor of this establishment.”

“Okay,” Ithan yawned. He stretched his arms out wide, then stepped out and closed his door. He followed Unit 17 downstairs. The tavern was unusually empty. Storm and Dhurik were seated at a table near the center of the room. Bimpnottin sat at the bar, and Taer’inar stood next to him.

“You look like death,” Taer’inar muttered as Ithan sat next to Bimpnottin.

“I suppose I do,” Ithan replied.

“Don’t take too long,” Briryn said to Unit 17 as the terran walked up to him. “I don’t like to keep my customers waiting.” Unit 17 nodded and turned to the group.

“Greetings, citizens,” Unit 17 began. “You have been gathered here for an important announcement. In light of recent events, the Seal of the Burning Scale Dynasty has decreed that any citizen without proper authority to pass through the western gate of Greenreach is to be placed under house arrest. This law is effective immediately.”

“What?!” Taer’inar cried. “Why is that?”

“The recent disappearance of the Velthin family has caused concern over the dangers of Averion,” Unit 17 replied. “The law serves to protect the dragonkin dwelling within the city of Greenreach.”

“But we saved that family,” Taer’inar argued. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“The Seal has already considered your deeds in both Rockfall and the Spider Forest,” Unit 17 said. “However, this law must be upheld. It has been deemed that in order to continue your excursions outside of Greenreach, you must register yourselves as a formal guild within the city.”

“What are the requirements for establishing a guild here?” Taer’inar asked. Unit 17 stood tall and began speaking more quickly.

“If a guild is to be formed under the Seal of the Burning Scale Dynasty, said guild must submit a guild charter for approval by a representative of the Seal. A clear contact or contacts must be established in the event that the Burning Scale Dynasty has need of the guild’s services. A report must be sent to the Burning Scale Dynasty at the conclusion of each expedition detailing activities pursued.” The terran relaxed its posture, then spoke in its usual speed. “As a representative of the Seal of the Burning Scale Dynasty, I am authorized to approve or reject formal documents.”

“That’s convenient,” Taer’inar said. “I can write something up within the next few hours.”

“I would strongly advise gathering any others who may wish to join this guild to sign the first draft of your charter,” Unit 17 continued. “This will expedite the process of having those members recognized by the Seal.”

“I suppose we can ask around,” Storm said, “but I don’t think too many people here would be interested.”

“Please inform me when you have completed the charter,” Unit 17 said to Taer’inar, ignoring Storm’s comments. “I have some investigative work to do in Averion, and I must obey protocol and join a guild.”

“Understood,” Taer’inar replied. “Thank you for your information.”

“Affirmative. I shall take my leave.” Unit 17 stepped through the group and through the tavern door. Moments later, dragonkin began pouring into the tavern, demanding food and beverage from Briryn.

“Hey Mor’lavan,” Briryn said. “You mind getting some food started?” Ithan perked up at this request and hopped out of his seat, then ran around the bar into the kitchen. This was the first time Briryn had asked Ithan to help cook, and he was eager to show the dragonkin what he could do. When he reached the storage room, he was delighted to find an abundance of beef left over from the night before. He made quick work of cutting it up into edible chunks, then got to work chopping up vegetables. He threw everything into a large pot and filled it with water. Once he got the fire started, he quickly scanned the kitchen for anything that could satiate the dragonkin while his stew cooked. Disappointed at the lack of finger foods at his disposal, he ran over to the doorway and poked his head out into the tavern. He sighed in relief as he noticed that the dragonkin had already begun drinking and enjoying themselves and not complaining about the lack of food.

“Briryn, did the merchant already come by today?” Ithan asked as Briryn passed him with a few mugs of beer.

“He should be by any moment now,” Briryn replied. “Get whatever you need.”

“Thanks!” Ithan called as he ran back into the kitchen. He peered over the top of the pot make sure it had not started boiling yet, then ran over to the back door. As he opened it, he was greeted by the merchant Shalin and his large cart. Unlike many of the other dragonkin, Shalin stood about equal height to Ithan and had a bit of a weaker frame.

“Well, howdy there, Mor’lavan,” Shalin said. “Didn’t expect you out here today. Briryn finally lettin’ you in the kitchen?”

“Yes sir,” Ithan replied happily. He looked over Shalin’s cart. It had all kinds of different foods, but Ithan spotted just a few things that he needed. “I’ll take six‍—no, eight dozen eggs, and… what kind of cheese is that? Never mind, I’ll take three pounds of it.”

“Is that all today?” Shalin asked curiously. “Not running low on anything else?”

“I wouldn’t want to overstep,” Ithan said. “I’m just taking what I need for today.”

“Of course, of course!” Shalin exclaimed. “At any rate, that’ll be twenty copper pieces.” Ithan fumbled through a pouch on his belt and took out three silver pieces. “Oh no, you must’ve misheard‍—”

“For your wife’s medicine,” Ithan interrupted. “I hope she gets well soon.” Shalin smiled warmly at Ithan.

“You’re a good lad,” he said as he handed the goods Ithan had purchased over to him. “I’ll give the missus the good news tonight.” With a wave, he began pulling his cart away through the backstreets. When he was out of sight, Ithan carried the food back inside and began shredding the cheese and cooking the eggs with it. After some time, he had prepared enough omelets for all of the dragonkin in the tavern, plus some extra for his friends. He checked on the stew once more to see that the water had only just begun to boil. He began quickly taking the food out to the dragonkin, one plate in each hand to be safe.

“What’s this?” Rhogar questioned as Ithan set a plate down in front of him.

“Uh… just some eggs and cheese,” Ithan answered. Rhogar glanced up at him, his brow furrowed. “J-just something to hold you over! I’ve got a nice stew cooking now.” Rhogar’s look of skepticism changed to a wide grin. He turned back to try the eggs that Ithan had cooked as Ithan ran back into the kitchen to grab more plates. When he came back out, Rhogar’s plate had already been emptied.

“That was pretty good,” Rhogar said to his friends. “Kid’s not half bad.” Ithan grinned as he set down two more plates and hurried back to the kitchen. The stew was boiling quite nicely now, and Ithan could smell it from the doorway. It would certainly be ready by the time he finished serving the appetizer. He continued serving plates to the dragonkin and collecting those that had been emptied. He served Fenvyre and Sonys’s family when they came down, then he served his friends. Finally, after seeing that everyone had been given a plate of eggs, he dashed back into the kitchen to begin filling bowls with stew and bring them out, two by two, to the many guests in the tavern. As he walked through the room, a few dragonkin spoke about either the eggs, the stew, or both. How surprising it was that one of the top fighters in the arena could also cook a great meal. And there was barely any fur! Of course, there was a little in there, but the food was still excellent.

“Good job,” Briryn said as Ithan brought more emptied plates back into the kitchen. “Now go eat. You can clear the rest later.”

“Thanks,” Ithan replied. He set the plates near the rest in the kitchen and grabbed his own plate and bowl, then carried them out and over to the table where his friends sat. He found a place between Taer’inar and Storm, who were discussing the finer details of the charter that Taer’inar was trying to write.

“So, this is mostly just formalities, right?” Storm asked.

“Yes,” Taer’inar replied, “but I’ve still written it in a way that should be agreeable to everyone who signs it.” He pulled out a scroll of paper from his sleeve and handed it to Storm, who opened it and began reading. “Oh, Mor’lavan, have you any interest in joining this guild?”

“Well, I have things I need to do in Averion,” Ithan said. “I don’t really have much interest in forming a guild, but I don’t feel like being kicked out of Greenreach just yet.”

“Good, then it’s settled. Welcome to The Averion Company.”

“What kind of name is that?” Ithan laughed.

“No one else came up with anything,” Taer’inar replied as Ithan took a bite out of his food. There was definitely fur in it, but he had eaten worse.

“That’s not true!” Bimpnottin argued. “I gave you three different suggestions!”

“Fine,” Taer’inar groaned, “no one else came up with anything good.” Bimpnottin threw up his hands for a moment, then continued eating in silence.

“You don’t have a guildmaster here,” Storm interrupted, handing the scroll back to Taer’inar. Taer’inar took the scroll and set it next to Ithan. Ithan took another bite from his plate, then set his fork down and picked up the scroll to begin reading it. There were many lines of legal nonsense that Ithan could barely understand, but the document seemed to basically amount to the bare minimum of what Unit 17 had mentioned the Seal required. There was a provision for leadership, but Taer’inar had left a large amount of space beneath it before beginning the provision for expeditions.

“Oh, that,” Taer’inar said. “I didn’t know what to put there.”

“I nominate myself as guildmaster!” Bimpnottin shouted a bit too loudly. A few surrounding dragonkin glared at him before turning back to their tables. “Are there any who oppose me? No? Then that’s that‍—”

“Hold up,” Dhurik said. “I’m not taking orders from someone who’s taller sitting than he is standing.”

“That’s irrelevant!” Bimpnottin continued. “I’ll have you know I am a brilliant leader!”

“You certainly are loud enough to play the part,” Storm added. “But I think that’s all you’ve got going for you right now.”

“You’ve been pretty quiet, Mor’lavan,” Taer’inar commented as he nudged Ithan, pulling him away from his reading. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

“Do we need a guildmaster?” Ithan asked. Everyone stopped their arguing and looked over at him.

“The guildmaster is typically the one in charge of handling guild operations,” Taer’inar replied.

“That’s not what I asked,” Ithan said. “Why do we need one person in charge of doing all that? Why can’t we all just do our fair share?”

“Someone has to be held accountable,” Storm muttered.

“So we hold each other accountable,” Taer’inar said. “It seems fair to me.”

“Nonsense!” Bimpnottin cried. “What’s a guild without a guildmaster?”

“…A guild?” Dhurik huffed. “I’m with Dogboy here.”

“We’re a group of misfits in this place, Bimpnottin,” Taer’inar said, smiling as he took the scroll from Ithan. “It’s fitting that this guild be a misfit among guilds.” Bimpnottin sank into his chair as Taer’inar took out a pen and ink and began scribbling on the scroll.

“I still say I should be guildmaster,” Bimpnottin mumbled.

“That’s nice,” Taer’inar said as he finished writing. He handed the parchment to Storm, who read it quickly and nodded. Storm passed it off to Ithan, and he read the fresh ink under the leadership provision.

5.4 Leadership

5.4.1 At this time the guild recognizes no formal leadership structure. All members shall be considered equal and full members.

5.4.2 An expedition/contract group may appoint a recognized leader for the duration of the expedition, usually the person(s) who called for or organized the expedition. This leader shall have the final word on decisions as appropriate for the expedition.

“Looks good to me,” Ithan said as he handed the parchment to Dhurik. Dhurik immediately set the parchment in front of Bimpnottin, who picked it up and started reading.

“I don’t need to read it,” Dhurik said. “Birdbrain knows what’ll happen if he tries to be sneaky.” Taer’inar shuddered next to Ithan.

“So, I get to be the leader sometimes?” Bimpnottin asked.

“Yes, I suppose,” Taer’inar replied. Bimpnottin peered over the paper with a wide smile.

“Give me your pen,” he said as he looked at Taer’inar. The elf hesitantly obliged, and Bimpnottin snatched the pen and scribbled something at the bottom of the parchment. He turned the paper around and laughed triumphantly. “Look here! I am the first to sign the charter!” Indeed, Bimpnottin’s signature was now at the bottom of the charter in large bold letters, leaving hardly enough room for the others to sign. He passed the pen and paper back to Dhurik, who crudely signed his own name.

When Dhurik handed the pen and charter to Ithan, he tried to scan the paper once more for any hidden items that Taer’inar might have added, but his head started to hurt when he got into the reporting provision, so he left it be. He hesitated for a moment as he remembered not to sign his actual name and wrote ‘Mor’lavan’ just underneath Dhurik’s signature. He passed the paper to Storm, who signed it quickly and handed it back to Taer’inar. After Taer’inar signed the charter, he rolled it up and put it back in his sleeve.

“And thus, The Averion Company is formed,” Taer’inar said, raising his glass to commemorate the occasion. The rest of the newly formed guild followed suit. For a moment, Kiraan chuckled in the recesses of Ithan’s mind. At least he was keeping his master entertained, for the moment.