Fight or Flight - NaNoWriMo2019 11/23

Boughborn wasn’t a small village, but it was a village. Mostly farmers and merchants that sold to farmers. Boughborn was special only in the regard that it was one of the final stops leading away from the Enclave territories, due to that many merchants coming from distant lands passed though this sleepy little town. If one were to facilitate an invasion of the Enclave, control of the border towns was certainly a good starting gambit. The people here were not like those in the large cities closer to the center oft the Enclave, they didn’t care for the politics of the Council or anyone else for that matter. The sight of the Vibrant Spear was seen to them no more welcome than an an invading army, they could be easily swayed into the Supremacies pocket, long as they were given a promise to be left alone when the bloodshed started.

Wilhelm and Annice made their way down the first cobbled road they rode on in almost a week, though it was the only such road that existed in Boughborn. They were weary, to say the least, and while relieved to finally be off the road, neither forgot the reason they were here. Annice eyed the people as she rode passed and they all stared at her with disgust, a few spitting to one side as they passed. Were they all already turned?

“Don’t judge them, Annie.” Wilhelm said softly, riding Ale up close beside her.

“Hm?” She drew her eyes away from one particular man who looked at the half-elven cleric like she was a rotting fly infested hunk of fruit.

“They ain’t lookin at you like that cause they’re with the Supremacy.” He started, gesturing to the folk who were giving him similar glares. “These people, they like their quiet, when folk like us ride into their homes, well, let’s just say we tend to make things not quiet. They got their own problems, they don’t wanna be dealin with ours.”

“But we’re trying to help them.”  Annice said, frowning. “I doubt the Supremacy will treat them well, humans or not.”

“Yeah well they don’t exactly feel like the Enclave does much better.” Wilhelm retorted, and raised his hand defensively when he saw Annice’s scowl. “I ain’t sayin their right, I’m sayin it’s their way. These folk get stepped on no matter who’s in charge, doesn’t matter to them who’s doin the steppin.”

The two travelers were able to find a stable willing to house their horses for a few nights and after some conversation were lead to the only tavern and inn in the village. A short walk and they found themselves at the Sleepy Sow just as the sun was dipping passed the horizon. They pushed in and found the establishment packed, which was clearly not the standard night’s business for this place. Wilhelm pointed to a table for Annice to snatch up before someone else got to it and headed for the bar. The woman behind the bar, a Dwarven maiden of middling age for her race, stood on a stool pouring a drink, she still had to look up at Wilhelm.

“Meat, cheese, bread, and two ale’s at that table there.” Wilhelm said in Dwarvish to the woman, pointing to the table where Annice sat. The Dwarven barkeep let out a delighted laugh.

“Oooh boyo!” She cackled. “You just made me day! Haven’t had anyone from the homeland in near two winters now!” She smiled at this man, instantly pegging him for more than just a human who learned the Dwarvish tongue, nay this boy was raised by Dwarves. “Oooh that accent though! One oh the minin colonies I’d say!”

“That indeed!” Wilhelm was grinning wide, leaning on the bar. “The Korg Gully Mines!”

“Oh old Drue Flintforge’s lot? Ah the man’s me forth cousin thrice removed!” The woman said, shooing away another customer as she spoke with this man who knew her people.

“Go on and get outa here!” Wilhelm exclaimed. “Well that makes us family, Drue was basically me pa!” The barmaid let out a delighted laugh, and reached over the bar to wrap her arms around Wilhelm, who returned the bear hug, the woman coming off her stool about half a foot.

“Well mey m’boy! Fozzie Oakfist!” She beamed and clapped the human on the arm as she found her footing on the stool again. “Ah, who’da thunk it, family, all the way out here! Now, your foods on me dearie, no no I won’t hear any objection! Yer my kin and I shant be havin you go on with an empty belly!”

“Well thank you most kindly, cousin! We’ll also be needing two rooms, adjacent. Can’t quite tell you how long we’ll be stayin though, few days at the least I’d say.” Wilhelm said.

“Ooh right you are laddie!” Now, fer the rooms I can’t give you free. They’re eight silver a night, but I’m gonna have to bump that up to a gold per night after the first since I’ll be needed to keep them on reserve till I know when yer leavin, I’m so sorry hun.” She said, shaking her head and seeming genuinely troubled she couldn’t just give the rooms to him.

“Not a problem cousin. You have already been most kind by sharing your food and beautiful smile.” Wilhelm grinned and placed six gold on the bar.

“Oh you get right outa here now, mister!” She squealed, crimson filling her face and she smacked his hand. She slid the gold off the table and into a small box, securing the box under the bar. “So what brings you to Boughborn, not much out here but dirt. You like dirt? We got plenty of dirt!”

“Naw, none of that. Heard there might be a gatherin of sorts here, seemed to be something I might take a look at.” Wilhelm smiled, but Fozzie’s sweet disposition vanished.

“Aye lad, that be it? Don’t know those folks be too friendly to the dwarven forged, human or not.” She stated coldly, looking almost fearful now. Wilhelm cleared his throat and leaned in.

“You know something, cousin?” He asked, pleadingly.

“Don’t know nothin that’ll get me in trouble that I’ll tell you, lad.” She stated, shrinking away from the human now. She glanced away from him, staring at the rest of the folk in the inn. Wilhelm glanced back at the patrons, then to Fozzie.

“I can tell you that I may be lookin like a man, but I was forged in the same fires as you. What better weapon to strike at an enemy than one forged to look like the enemy?” He looked her dead in the eye seeking out confirmation that she caught his meaning… he found it.

“Aye I see the hammer strikes that made ye, boy. But I’ll gab yer ear off about the family later yeah? Not good to share a pipe with friends while in the coal mines you know.” She eased visibly, knowing Wilhelm was no threat to her. Wilhelm nodded.

After gathering the keys to their rooms Wilhelm joined Annice, who looked like a lost lamb in torchlight. She glanced to and from the men and women who made a cacophony of noise and revelry. Once Wilhelm joined her she calmed, till she saw his face at least.

“What’s wrong?” She asked him.

“Just got some pretty strong confirmation they’re here.” Wilhelm said in a hushed tone. “And that I look like one of em. It’s disheartenin to say the least, but also should make it all the easier to make friends.

Their food was brought to them and the two stared, mouths watering, at the steaming freshly cooked meats, soft cheeses, and hard breads. They both stopped in their worry and fears to dig into the first food that wasn’t travel rations in days, and it was good. They gorged themselves and a sense of life came back to them, remembrance of what living like people again. The food was gone much quicker than either of them were likely to admit, and they both sat back in their chairs, relishing the sensation of a full stomach.

“Alright. I think our first move is to settle in, get ourselves washed and rested, start lookin for our man tomorrow, could be anywhere and not likely to just fall into our laps-“ Wilhelm bgan, before hearing a cry from across the tavern.

“Is that Wilhelm the Unyielding!?” The call came out, Wilhelm looked up. “It is! I knew it was! How about that!”

The man stood from his table the sullen and dour lot that were his companions all drawing steely gazes towards the Gladiator. The man who called out was tall and had an athletic build, thin but clearly muscular. He wore a silken scarlet tunic under a black vest with brass buttons and gold accents on the collar, a charcoal velvet long coat, and a pair of dark trousers that slipped into clean and sparkling riding boots. Gussied up is what this man screamed with his slicked back platinum blond hair and teeth just a shade to white in his Cheshire smile. He reached out and offered his hand to Wilhelm.

“It’s wonderful to meet you Wilhelm, I’m Rikkon Weiswolf, and I would love to speak with you about something very important, if you would give me the honor.”