The Lords of Arcanum

- Master?
...
- Master Chase?
Go. Away.
- Master, you just recieved a letter from the tax-department.
Oh Gods no.
- I took the liberty of reading it through, to give sir the highlights...
Yes, and?
- It's bad, sir.
Tell me something I don't know.
- Sir, pardon me for being straightforward, but you really must do something about your economic situation. If you cannot pay this months bill, the department will most assuredly throw us out of the mansion. Neither I nor the rest of the staff wants that, so I would, on their behalf, like to urge-
- You're a good man, Jenkins.
- Thank you, sir. But I really must insist-
- And you are absolutely right.
- Yes, sir, and - oh -
- This ship will not float for much longer.
- Indeed so, unfortunetly, sir.
- And I shall have to do something about it right away. Jenkins, fetch me my cloak. I am going downtown.

The butler's old face lit up with newfound hope, and he half-strode, half-ran to fetch his master's cloak. Finally, the master had decided to put aside the bottle and do something about the horrible economic situation. Finally, something was happening. He hadn't been this glad in years.

As Benjamin put his robe on, Jenkins was struck by a terrible curiosity. Where was his master going, and what was he up to? He had sounded so reassured and secure in his statement, but where could he actually turn to for work? Jenkins knew of no such place, and that was what was causing this nervousness. Perhaps his master had a secret, fool-proof idea? Perhaps he knew of some old lair or treasure? Perhaps, Jenkins thought in horror, he was going to wor for the maffia? The curiosity became to much for the old mans nerves, and he had to ask the question.

- Master?
- Yes, Jenkins?
- If...
Jenkins wet his lips.
- If there are visitors, where should I tell them...
- Oh. Grant's, probably.
Jenkins froze.
- What, sir?-
- Grant's Tavern. There's bound to be some work there. And, if there isn't, I might as well get horribly drunk and try again with fresh spirits tomorrow.

Benjamin closed the door behind him and started off towards Grant's Tavern. Jenkins remained, paralyzed, at the front door.

He had to fight hard not to scream.

 

Grausemann works silently in his workshop, trying to find the next great idea. It's one thing to earn the doctorate in gun smithy, and quite another to make something new. His current project draws from his meager electrical education, and he's trying to make a weapon that fires charged ammunition that stuns its target, rather than killing it.
Suddenly, a drunken malcontent burst through the front door.
You sunnuva bitch! Filthy lizard...we got enough weirdos in this town already without you 'n yer cold-blooded...uh...right!
The man sees a pistol sitting on a table fairly close to Grausemann, and runs to it. He grabs some bullets from the table and starts loading the weapon.
Grausemann stands, easily two and a half feet taller than the person who entered the shop
I'm so tired of this...Sir, don't touch that gun. I'm still working on it, and it could be potentially dangerous to try and use it.
Shut up! What's a scaly monster like you know about guns anyway?! After I take you down, I'm gonna sell all your junk on the street!
He pulls the trigger and gets a powerful electrical shock as the hammer comes down. He failed to notice, when he picked it up, that the barrel was blocked off to keep dust from getting inside of it. The gun backfires and hits the man in the shoulder, and he drops it on the floor.
The pain and the shock knocks him unconscious, and he falls to the floor as well.
Looks like I have it half right...
One of Grausemann's friends runs through the door.
'Ey Grossie! You alright in here? she sees the unconscious man on the floor, Damn...the stun gun?
Gross looks at Jess and laughs.
Ha ha ha...yes. Even though it doesn't work exactly how I want it, it did just what it's supposed to do. This man came in, completely soused, telling me I don't belong here...and he tried to shoot me with it.
Grossie, I've been around town, and most people here think the same as this guy did. They're just not as drunk or unconscious. Me being a half-orc, I'm used to not being welcome in most places, but there're enough of us around to mean we're pretty safe in a place like Blackroot. You're the only one of you people have ever seen in this place, and...
And if I make a mistake, there wouldn't be anyone like me to fight back. I understand.
Grausemann began to pack up his supplies and inventions, and started to write out a note.
I'm not sure where to go, but I'll write to you when I get there. Goodbye, Jess.
Jess lowered her head and walked out.
Filling an envelope with his rent, he attached a note to the door of the shop;

This month's rent is on a table inside. I'm not working here anymore.

Grausemann Schwamm.

Grausemann had all of his belongings in a backpack and a large wheeled trunk. He headed for the docks, and was stopped by a strange man in ragged robes.

You...you must go to the city on the river. I await your arrival.

The man disappears, and Grausseman feels compelled to head to Tarant.

 

Sitting in Grants Tavern, Thonan watched the day pass by. It was a slow day, and very little work.

Nothing much happend, the beer tasted bad, the tavarn was bad, and he generally disliked it. And to make things worse, the Half-ogre, Benjamin Chaser, came to the tavern, probaly to get drunk again. Thonan watched him as he came in and sat down, watched him with cold dead eyes and wished that there would come someone taht could hire him. He started to run short of it.

When he sat there, drinking the foul bevarage he could afford an elf enterd the tavern. generally, he dislliked elfs, but since he was running out of money, and had no work in sight, he thought that the elf maybe had some work for him. He wounderd if it would be good to approach the elf or not.

 

Benjamin was having a good time at Grant's. The saloon was calm, the beer tasted good and the company was dead silent. He was stationed at the bar, talking to some nondescript half-elf about nothing in particular. He had never seen the man before in his entire life, but he didn't care. As long as he had someone to vent his frustrations to, he was fine.

- And then, he said, I told him to shut the hell up. Of course he didn't, so I made him. One straight and he was all gone. Elves are too fragile. Bones made of glass.

He wasn't even facing his drinking-partner; he was too interested in the rest of the saloon to spare any attention to the half-elf. His eyes scanned the tavern patrons, measuring them up one after one. It was a nasty habit, constantly looking out for those that could handle themselves, challenging them in your mind, but after all his training as a boxer, and after having lived in the Boil, he couldn't help it.

Suddenly, his eyes fell upon an elf. The peculiar thing about this elf was that he was looking back. His eyes were filled with hatred. Benjamin, drunk as he was, decided to try out his luck and go and greet his elven admirer.

Excuse me a moment, my dear chap, he said to his friend by the bar, But it seems that I've got a date. I might just get back to you later.

He grabbed his bottle and walzed over to the elf's table, grinning broadly as he sat down in front of him.

This seat is free, I suppose? Well, you see, I was sitting over there by the bar, discussing life with one of my dear fellows, and suddenly my eyes fell upon you, sitting here all by yourself and giving me such an extraordinary look. So, a fellow should never have to drink all by himself, I thought to myself, and here I am!

He grinned even broader and leaned himself over the table, towards the elf.

So, my dear elven friend, what's your story?

 

Tarant...

Grauseman arrives in the river city, loaded for bear, with no idea where he's staying. People seeing him leave the docks seem surprised, but not scared in the least.

Must be the pants I wear to fit in with civilized society...they're so damned uncomfortable, though.

Just then, Grausemann notices the lead going from his neck and into the hands of a man. The same man who told him to come to Tarant.

What's the meaning of this?! How did you attach this leash without my noticing?

Silence. The lead is an illusion. Society in Tarant is much less forgiving of oddities than is Blackroot, so you had better keep the appearance of an eccentric wizard's pet, lest you be detained and dissected under the direction of our zoological society. Don't misunderstand me, though. It's not a personal threat, seeing as the laws aren't mine. I'll explain my situation as we walk.

Grausemann felt like an absolute fool, walking aside this completely shrouded figure with all of his personal belongings in tow. But, the man had some interesting information to offer.
Apparently, there was an object of great value hidden somewhere in the Grey Mountain range, and he needed help in finding it. He was unable to go himself, seeing as he's got a business to run in town, but he would pay generously for the procurement of his prize.

Grausemann speaks quietly,
It's a very nice offer, and I could doubtless use greater funding. But why bring me to Tarant and tell me this? Why not simply ask me in Blackroot?

Ha ha ha...well, when I said, "eccentric wizard," I was being completely serious. I do things only as I prefer to do them. Also, you were leaving Blackroot, and I couldn't very well send you off without a base of operations.

The man takes off his hood, revealing a familiar Elven face.
The last time Grausemann saw this face was 150 years ago.
Wait...you!

Yes, it's me, Balyr Orai. And don't think I've forgotten the favor you owe me.

 

...

 

The Gods really smiled upon him today; beer and a job? This was probably his lucky day. Too bad he didn't know what day it was. The elf seemed to have changed attitude towards him as well, he actually seemed quite reasonable. He was probably surprised by Benjamin's unusual manners. Most people were.

He winked at the elf and raised his bottle to him in salute.

Well, aren't you the perceptive one, mister Wynde. I am admittedly a bit down on my luck at the moment, and yes, I am indeed interested in work.

An elven burial ground, eh? That could get really interesting. If the elf didn't pay him enough for this, he could always come back to that tomb to extract further payment, later.

And now, to settle the deal.

So, what kind of work are we talking about then, friend? Oh, and allow me to introduce myself, by the way. The name is Chase. Benjamin Chase.

 

Sitting and drinking his second beer, the half-ogre rose and walked towards the elf. At first he thought that elf was done for it, and felt sad for not asking him about a job, even thou if Chase had in mind to beat the elf down, he didn't want to stand in his way.

But his attention rose as he heard the elf offering the half-ogre a job, and thought that this was a good time to ask, and cursed himself for not asking sooner. If the elf only wanted one, the position was already taken.

So he stood up and walked to the table where the half-ogre and the elf and sat down to talk.

Excuse me, but I couldn't help but to overhear that you were talking about a job of sort, that you were seeking a bodyguard He turned to the elf.

It just happen to be so that I am short of work, and if you need mor than one to help you, I would be glad to be at your service

 

Tell you what. Meet me up outside this fine establish at... noonish, shall we say? I have some business to take care of before we leave Tarant and you'll probably want a good night's sleep after going through those kegs, haw haw! What do you say?

Benjamin was aware of the half-elf trying to get a piece of the cake, but he would have to wait until Benjamin was done. They still hadn't discussed the price further than "worth your while", and Benjamin was not too happy with that.

Noon sounds good indeed, mister Wynde, but before we part this fine evening there is still the small matter of payment that needs to be discussed. I am quite fit for working as your bodyguard, mister Wynde. Perhaps the most fit person you'll find in Tarant, for this job. My services doesn't come cheap, but neither am I too expansive. Now, how much are you would you be willing to offer?

 

Benjamin sneered at the half-elf, pittying him for his bad sence of timing. He was almost about to chase him off, to secure his own deal. He didn't want to split his salary with that point-ear, but then again he probably wouldn't have to.

Five hundred coin. With that kind of money, his debt would probably get payed. And, if he could snatch something from the tomb whilst his employer was occupied elsewhere, he could actually get rich again. And, he thought, excited as he was, if he was gone long enough then somebody would most probably claim his title. That meant more fights and more money. Damn, this elf had really turned up to be quite a find. Now, to get rid of that pesky half-elf...

Please, my dear half-elven sir, we are discussing business at the moment. Perhaps you would like to return later, when we are finished? I don't like being disturbed in the middle of an agreement, and I'm sure that mister Wynde here feels the same. So, why don't you go back to your drink by the bar and let us finish our deal, hm? Off you go then...

Benjamin waved the half-elf off and turned his attention to Wynde again.

Please, mister Wynde, continue your previous sentance. You were saying something about five hundred coin, "and"...

 

Please, my dear half-elven sir, we are discussing business at the moment. Perhaps you would like to return later, when we are finished? I don't like being disturbed in the middle of an agreement, and I'm sure that mister Wynde here feels the same. So, why don't you go back to your drink by the bar and let us finish our deal, hm? Off you go then...

Well, cousin, I am not sure if I need more than one man with me on this job. I only have two horses, you see, and unless you can provide a mount of your own or run as fast as a horse I'm afraid I don't have any need of you.

The response he got was worse than he hoped for, but no better than he had expected, espacially from the brutish half-ogre. But he wouldn't let a little resistance let him down. So he didn't stop for long before opening his mouth again. thou he wasn't sure he acutally wanted the job, having this arrogant elf as a boss could prove difficult, and with the half-ogre, nothing would be easy.


My dear cousin he put an extra tune into the word, in contrary to the elf who had nearly spitted the word out, has it just happens to be, I acutally do have my own mount, and even thou I may not be as big as mr. Chase here, I have proved my skill in battle several times, and I could do the job for only half the amount, I can do it for 250 gold. So, do you have need for fine elven steel in your journeys or not? he asked, looking the elf, mr wynde?, in his eyes.

 

If so, I accept your proposal. Meet me outside this establishment at noon, and we shall set off. Remember, while you have only requested half as much as Mr Chase, rest assured that you're entitled to your share of any loot we find. And I am very sorry for how rudly I treated you earlier. My sincere apologies, this has been a taxing journey indeed. Care for a glass of wine?

He was delighted to finally have found himself a job, and not only he would gain gold from, but loot to! It was a prefect job, and exacly what he was looking for. And now he had to atleast try and repair some of the damage that had been caused.

There is no needs for apologies, I might have been a bit rude myself, and for that I apologies. And thank you, but no thanks, I have some business to atend to, before we leave, so I dont have time for a glass of wine. But don't worry, I will be here at noon, that I can assure you by my name, Thonan Tigersoul. besides, I think mr Chase here wanted to speak with you.

And with that, he turned around, and walked out of the tavern.

 

Damn half-elf. Who did he think he was, anyway? Now, Benjamin was going to have to share the loot with him as well. Unless... Unless, of course, something happened to the point-ear. Something that would incapacitate him from joining them the next day. Yes, that could be it. Fortunetly for Benjamin, and unfortunetly for this "Thonan", Benjamin knew some rather unpleasant fellows down in the boil. Some of them even considered him as a friend. He'd have to head over to Caleb's, after he'd settled things at Grant's.

I am quite satisfied with your offer, mister Wynde. I'm afraid I can't stay and drink with you, though I apreciate the gesture. I'll see you at noon. Good night.

With that, he left the tavern and made his way down the street, across the Garillion bridge and into the boil. The "welcome commité" moved aside before him, and a street beggar opened the door to him, in hope of alms, or even pity. Benjamin offered none. In the boil, only the weak took themselves time to help, or try to help, the poor. Benjamin didn't want to look weak. He had a reputation to think about.

Caleb's place was damp and, for once, calm. People were sitting in small groups, murmuring amongst eachother and glancing at the others. A few people noticed Benjamin as he entered. One of them was the person he'd come here to find. Sabine aproached him.

- Well, well! Isn't it mister Chase himself! All posh and powerful now, eh? Come to visit your old friends 'down the gutter, have you?

When she came a little closer, she winked at him and whispered, so that no-one else could hear:

- It's good to see you, boy. I've missed you.

Is that official?

They both grinned.

- Nope. Gotta stay in profile, you know.

She patted him on the back and raised her voice again.

- Now, mister Chase, why don't you sit down by my table, so you can tell me why the hell you're here for.

After they had settled, he sighed and gave her a serious gaze.

Alright. It's a long story but here it goes...