Chapter 10: Chapter 10.

The Adventurer’s guild building was notable. It stood tall and wide in comparison to the fancy looking guild-houses on the sides. It was like a city hall with its marble columns, and wide steps that lead to an entrance. A single guard stood at the front, checking everyone that was entering. Outside, several vendors sold street food out of their carts. Small groups hung around the courtyard, chatting and laughing.

We approached the heavy oak doors. They were wide open, and I could hear the raucous noise before I even got close. The guard glanced at our hands for the numbers as we walked past, but didn’t say anything.

Inside, it was more of a humongous tavern than a guild-house. A familiar heavy smoke mingled with body odor clung to me. The patrons barked threats, bellowed drinking songs, and laughed. The bar was the central point of attraction, with tables and benches filling every inch of space under the tall ceiling of wooden beams and chandeliers.

About half the patrons were human, and they appeared to mingle together with the demi-humans without a care. Tough, gruff and deadly – every single one carried weapons, and wore armor like they slept in it – which made me blend right in.

I followed a trail of mud and blood from the entrance down to the central processing counter, badly scuffed. Next to it hung an oak bulletin board, draped with all manner of leaflets requesting aid, looking for groups, jobs, quests, errands and open death threats. Most leaflets came with group and color restrictions starting with amber and above. Also time to completion, and promised rewards in coin, or items. A few had ‘human only’ tags.

To the side of it was a bounty board with all manner of crudely drawn portraits, descriptions, crimes and rewards. Some appeared to have been there for years, yet the fresh ones took up most of the space.

“You need to register before picking up a job,” a bored voice called out from the central counter.

We walked up to find a rather large woman sitting behind the low counter. A logbook was open before her, showing numerous entries with tags attached to the edges.

“Name and class,” she said, without looking up.

“Jack, and I’m a ... fighter.”

She raised her head with a skeptical look on her face. “Fighter?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s no such class. If you don’t wish to reveal your class, you may simply state your role,” she said in a bored, yet practiced manner.

“What are the roles?”

“Damage, vanguard, support, healer,” she listed them off quickly.

“Vanguard.”

“Jack … vanguard.” She scribbled in an entry in a log book. “And your friend there?”

Dandee cleared his throat. “Dandee, blademaster.”

She raised an eyebrow, but continued writing. “The minimum number for a group is four. Should I put you down as looking for a healer and a support?”

I nodded. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

She pointed to the corner of the large chamber. “Try those two in the back. They might be what you’re looking for.”

“Alright. Thanks.”

We walked over to the furthest point from the bar and its raucous company. Yet the noise still followed us.

A brunette was slumped over a table. She rested her forehead on her hands. Her hair was shoulder length dark brown, and tied back in a pony tail. A strawberry-blonde girl with brown eyes sat next to her. She bobbed her head from side to side as if she was listening to music. The girl nudged the other in the side as we approached.

The brunette looked up, stared at me with her cold blue eyes. “What’cha looking at?”

A couple of bruises adorned her fair skin. Her full lips showed a cut in process of healing. She wore a beige padded vest, torn and grimy. A pair of leather gloves hid her number from view.

I ignored her bluster. “I’m looking to form a group. Are you a healer by any chance?”

She blinked her eyes, looked confused for a split second. “I uhm. I-I’m a kind of a paladin.”

“Which means you can heal?”

She scowled, her cold eyes returned. “Yes, I can ... heal.”

“That’s perfect then,” I said. “My name is Jack, and this fella here is Dandee.” I extended my hand for a handshake, but she ignored it.

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Instead, she tilted her head to the side, gesturing to the girl sitting next to her. “I’m with her.”

Was it supposed to mean something? I looked to the red-haired girl. She looked so small that her head barely cleared the table. She wore a brown vest with a tall collar over a gray shirt, rolled up to her elbows. She also wore gloves, but made of cloth.

“Your daughter?”

The girl burst out laughing, pounded the table with her hand.

The brunette recoiled. “What? Of course not! She’s twenty years old.”

“Oh.”

The red-head wiped tears from her eyes. Nudged the irritated brunette with her elbow, looked at her with puppy eyes. “Mommy, mommy. I need a new doll. Pwetty pwease.”

The brunette shoved her back with a palm to her face.

“What is her clas-” I didn’t know why I was asking her. I turned to the red-head. “What’s your class?”

She smiled wide. “Fire mage.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “That fits your lovely red hair.”

She beamed. “Thank you, and I love your eyes.” She nudged the brunette suggestively.

“Well, how about it?” I asked them.

“How about what?” the brunette replied.

“How about forming a group. I’m a vanguard, he’s damage, and you’re a healer.”

She sighed, gestured to the side. “She’s a gnome.”

“Oh, that’s neat.”

“A gnome,” she repeated, but with emphasis.

I turned to Dandee. “Does that mean anything to you?”

He shrugged.

I turned back to the brunette. “So?”

“So? … Gnomes are .. are a cursed lot.”

“Really? So, why are you with her in that case?”

She sighed. “Though it’s none of your damn business, but I owe her a life debt.”

I turned to the red-head. “Are you cursed?”

“No, of course not. That’s just some superstitious load of crap. Okay? You shouldn’t believe what people say about us.”

I gestured to the red-head. “She says she’s not cursed.”

Brunette rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I know that.”

The red-head smiled. “My name is Summer, and she’s Arina. Do you have a job lined up? We have one already, just needed a vanguard. We have been waiting for a couple of moons to start.”

“Sounds great,” I said. “What’s the job?”

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