Vlad

The young dwarf sat with pleasure wenches on either side of him at the bartable of a well-known tavern in Goodale called the Broken Skull Inn. A place where the ale was expensive (likely to be expected in a town called Goodale) and so were the wenches. Neither mattered to the dwarf as he was the type who wasn't interested in handing over his silver for the standard wench or the average ale. No sir, only the finest wenches and ale for Vlad Pwent but he thought if the circumstances were different, today he might reconsider. Yes, he thought to himself, today would be different. The entertainment here was good after all (he was surprised to see a band of minstrels playing in such a small town) the food wasn't bad by dwarven standards and the continuous flow of ale provided the dwarf's head with just the right amount of a delightful buzzing to keep him in good cheer.

Indeed, Vlad Pwent thought to himself, this day will be different.

At that thought he lifted his latest tankard of ale, one purchased only moments ago, and drained it to the last. Satisfied, he slammed the tankard down to the table dramatically, straightened himself in his seat, threw his shoulders back and let go of an impressive belch that caught the attention of everyone nearby, only a few of whom seemed to admire the display, not that Vlad cared.

He waved toward the barkeep with one hand and wiped his neatly braided beard with the other. As with most dwarves, Vlad's beard was no exception in being his pride and joy, though when drinking ale, the cloth of his shirt-arm was just as good as any finely knitted napkin. Reluctantly, the barkeep relieved himself of wiping down the wooden ale-mugs he'd just washed and deliberately made his way to the smug dwarf.

Frowning, he spoke. "Another ale dwarf?" The human was massive, even for those of his kind, easily six-and-a-half feet tall and seemed just as wide. His expression and body language, a spectacle of clenched fists and even tighter shoulders, told Vlad he had very little patience, for the little people.

The dwarf offered a mock expression of surprise at the enormous human's reluctance to serve. This lasted for a brief moment before he slowly changed his expression by adding a wry smile, seemingly reveling in the barkeep's annoyance. He then turned his head, looking to the pleasure wench on his left who returned his smile with one of her own. He eyed her up and down like a starving dog would gaze at a freshly roasted rack of lamb. She shifted closer to him, daring a hand upon his forearm and rested her ample bosom against his shoulder. He liked the firm, yet soft caress her breasts made upon him and, if it hadn't been for the recently consumed glut of ale he imagined that, like the one in his head, there would be a buzzing in his pantaloons where there was none now. The dwarf's smile widened, regardless of his lack of rigidity. He grunted an approval as he failed to notice the growing impatience of the barkeep he'd summoned.

"Come now dwarf," The barkeep interrupted. "I do not have time for this." Sweat glistened on the barkeep's balding pate. "What'll ye have, another ale?" He furrowed his sweating brow and pursed his lips into a scowl.

"No barkeep," Vlad said at last. His gaze never leaving the resting bosom of his new female friend. "Bring two. One for me and one for the lady" She fanned herself dramatically as if Vlad's gesture of kindness had suddenly, and quite magically, risen the temperature in the room. Thinking to herself, the wench hoped that Vlad realized that the price of her services slightly exceeded that of a few kind words and a tankard of ale.

"Right," The barkeep replied, slightly amused. "One for you and one for the... lady. He laughed at the misuse of the word and spoke it with disdainful inflection. Chuckling he left the two in order to retrieve their ales.

The pleasure wench to Vlad's right tugged innocently at his undershirt and whined in a surprisingly high-pitched, grating voice.

"Wha' abou' me Vlad?" She pronounced his name like many poor folk of the Southern Eldridge Kingdom: Vlot. "I would also like an ale." She risked an expression of childish neglect, it was a poor attempt and even in his inebriated state, Vlad wasn't fooled. He snapped his gaze toward her, the smile he wore disappearing instantly into a scowl. The wench let go and recoiled slightly. He eyed her for a few seconds before smiling wickedly.

"Get yer own ale, wench! I've nay the gold nor the energy for the both of ye!" He snapped viciously before continuing. His voice became gentler in tone though his words retained their acerbic intonation. "But in a tenday or so, I'll have enough gold for the services of yerself and all yer whore friends!" He then became thoughtful and his sarcastic left his face as it went blank. "Although I'll likely still be too knackered for more'n one of ye a' a time." He whispered the last to himself though the right-side wench wouldn't have heard it anyway as she had already left his company, scurrying away on her plump little feet to sell her wares to more eager, and hopefully even more intoxicated patrons.

Before the boastful, arrogant dwarf could return his attention to the dark-haired beauty that he had become so anxious to begin receiving services from, the barkeep had returned to them with both ale tankards and was impatiently awaiting payment. Vlad reached into his coinpurse and payed the barkeep what he owed. The barkeep took the coins from the dwarf but remained still even after pocketing them, eyeing Vlad intently. Vlad, never making eye-contact initially, looked up at the barkeep sheepishly, half-expecting the barkeep to accuse Vlad of somehow shortchanging him.

"You'd be wise not to speak to the wenches in that manner." The barkeep spat the words threateningly as he crossed his arms over his thick, barrel-shaped chest.

Vlad's expression remained blank. "And you'd be wise not to speak to me in that manner." He curled the corners of his mouth into an arrogant smirk, barely visible beneath his thick, red beard.

"Is that right?" The barkeep taunted, leaning over the table slightly to remind the dwarf of just how much larger the human was than he.

Before Vlad could explain to the human just how right that was the pleasure wench that he had nearly begun to forget about interjected, trying desperately to change the subject in order to avoid a confrontation which almost certainly would end up costing her the patronage of a well-paying customer.

"That's right" She said. "Vlad here is goin' t' be a hero. Ain't ye Vlad?" She spoke loudly to ensure that both of them would give her their full attention. Unfortunately, she got the attention of half the rest of the pub's patron as well.

The barkeep turned to her, unconvinced and half on the verge of uncontrollable laughter. "Is that right?" The barkeep repeated. Suddenly, Vlad began to wonder about the size of this human's vocabulary.

"Yes," The wench continued, half-impressed with herself at seeming to diffuse the encroaching confrontation. "he is goin' to the 'Goodale Cave'. The one about a dozen miles Sou'east a' here" She smiled and looked at Vlad with mock pride. "It's supposed t' be 'aunted."

"I know." the barkeep spat. "The Bearded-Child has been boasting about it since morning." He laughed heartily and then glanced at the dwarf, whose face had begun to redden. "But what he failed to mention to ye lass, is that he hasn't been assigned to Faramin's party yet."

Vlad remained silent, incredibly angry and embarrassed by the barkeep's revelation. He watched as the wench's expression melted from mock pride to genuine disappointment.

"Is 'ee speakin' truth, Vlad?" She asked sullenly.

Vlad paused a moment to consider his next words, a feat which required an enormous amount of will for him even when sober.

"As of now, aye." He spoke the words and felt the gaze of at least a dozen onlookers. Their eyes pierced his back like tiny assassins daggers. "However, I am confident, nay, certain, that his Lordship will find me of adequate quality to represent him and fight for the people of Goodale." Whatever confidence Vlad felt a few moments ago was now whisked away and replaced by the feeling that to all those present, all those listening to himself and the wench, that he had begun to bear a striking resemblance to a horse's arse.

The barkeep threw his head back and laughed. "Obviously you've not been paying attention." He said between peals of laughter. "Faramin has abandoned selecting the adventuring party's." He wiped away a tear, reveling further in the dwarf's humiliation. "Not after the last party he selected went down into that godsforsaken cave and never returned."

"Never returned?" The wench spoke the words in Vlad's head.

"That's right," The barkeep continued. "Faramin has decided that he can no longer bear the terrible burden of sending young men to their deaths himself, so he has commissioned volunteers to select, or bring to town, their own parties in order to travel to the cave and commit suicide themselves. The fools! Though he promises to reward any party that returns with the head of some mage who calls himself 'Raylock' the hefty sum of one thousand gold pieces." Vlad hung on to every word but tried to keep the air of aloofness, he failed miserably as the barkeep continued. "I've heard of only one such suicidal idiot." The barkeep finished his speech, again crossed his arms in front of him. He winked at the pleasure wench who seemed genuinely troubled by Vlad's sudden change in demeanor.

Vlad chanced a look over his shoulder, noticed that over a dozen bar patrons had begun to make their way towards the bartable. Inching closer in order to get a better position from which to eavesdrop on the suddenly very interesting conversation. He tried his best to ignore them and turned his attention back to the sarcastic barkeep.

"What 'Suicidal Idiot' is this you speak of?" Vlad asked humbly.

The barkeep smirked as he looked down on the small (at least to his eyes) dwarf who seemed to be getting smaller with each passing moment. "A vagabond, silver-haired elf... calls himself, Razell. Or some such. Travels with another of his kind, red hair and freckles. I don't know 'is name. Don't care either." He snorted the last bit, pleased with himself.

"Razell..." Vlad whispered absently to himself, staring into his full, untouched tankard. Then he frowned. "An elf!" He reached into his purse to pay the barkeep for the information but the barkeep refused it, holding his outstretched arm palm out toward the dwarf.

"No need. Information's free. I like to watch smart-tounged, loud-mouthed braggarts like you running off eagerly killing yerselves trying to become heroes." He smiled broadly as Vlad wondered what he may have said earlier to make the human hate him so. He supposed he didn't really care.

"Is that right?" Vlad said, knowing the barkeeper's answer.

"That's right." The barkeep repeated to Vlad's expectation.

"Thanks nonetheless." Vlad said moving from his stool to stand on the dusty tavern floor upon shaky, unsure legs. He found himself slightly dizzy from his consumption of ale but tried quickly to forget about it. The same way he forgot about the pleasure wench and the full tankard of ale he left behind as he pushed his way past the gathering crowd and out into the streets of Goodale, in search of this fairy elf. This, Razell.

Again, he thought to himself as the mid-day sun crept behind a large cluster of threatening purple clouds, this day, indeed, will be different.