Thank you for taking the time to read my work, it has been a long hiatus but I have decided to try writing again. This is a story in a different genre than my previous work, but I hope that my old supporters enjoy it still, and that those new to my stories find it to their tastes. Thank you once again.
The mood was high in the Itchy Fiddler, with loud voices and the thudding of ale mugs on wood despite the hour of day. The tavern was infamous for the clientèle it kept, but the reputation was not all bad. Sure, you would expect the risk of being dragged into a brawl on every other evening, but if you kept your head down you were mostly left alone. Unless someone thought you weren't drinking enough, that is. However, despite the bad rap that the place got from those that considered themselves 'above' such locations, everyone knew that if you needed a bodyguard? This was the place to go. Here, everyone that boasted about their capabilities could actually prove their skills, and everyone that sought to ply their trade there went through rigorous testing. As such, anyone seeking a pair of eyes to watch them and their goods? They would get their gold's worth in value.
This was why Orlando Rosson had entered the establishment, nerves on edge. He stuck out like a sore thumb, with his well-kept merchant's clothes, blonde wavy hair that ran down the sides of his face and collected in a tail at the back past his shoulder-blades, and the stylish hat that perched on top of his head. He could also tell that almost everyone inside the tavern had close to double the muscle mass of his own body, which made him very self-conscious. Steeling himself, he stepped through the common hall towards the counter, leaning on it with one elbow in an attempt to fit in.
The man behind the counter, a dwarf with a ruddy black beard and thick eyebrows threw the newcomer a glance, setting down the mug he had been wiping out. He did not speak.
Orlando swallowed and tried to make his voice authoritative, but it cracked half-way through due to his nerves."I am here in search of someone to protect me and my cart." He blushed, frustrated with his bad first impression.
"The table over there." The dwarven man pointed towards a group that was easily the rowdiest in the entire tavern, several ale mugs on the worn table and a couple on the floor. The man's voice was gravelly, like stone going through a grinder. "Don't expect it to come cheap." He then turned back to wiping the mug, no longer engaged with the stranger since he wasn't buying anything.
Orlando followed the man's finger to look over at the group of four that were seated at the table. Two of them, a tiefling woman with an eye-patch, and a halfling man that had almost more scars than skin, were cheering on the other two warriors at the table. Sitting down was a goliath man that seemed to tower over the table itself despite being leaned forward, his gray-skinned arm locked in contest with the fourth participant.
Facing the goliath was a half-orc woman with wild red hair tied up in a pony-tail and light-brown skin, eyes locked with the man. She was gritting her tusked mouth, trying to overpower her opponent in the arm-wrestling contest. Coins were strewn around the improvised arena, and the two fighters seemed evenly matched.
Hesitating for several moments, Orlando finally gathered up the courage to walk over and address the four patrons. "Uhm... excuse me?"
The goliath snapped with his deep voice at the stranger, his gaze not breaking contact with his opponent. "What?! Can't you see we're busy?!"
The tiefling woman sighed, running a hand along one of her curved horns. "You're never going to get another customer if you act like that, Gavek. Besides, I thought that your purse was running low?" She watched with an amused expression, clearly invested in the show of strength.
Gavek grumbled, sweat pouring down his bald head, muscles tensing visibly. "That's... why I need to win! Now stop bothering me!"
"Oh, because yer doin' such a grand job at that, eh?" The halfling chimed in, taking a sip from his mug.
Orlando found himself wondering what he had gotten himself into, but he had to walk out of this tavern with someone. Otherwise... he shook his head, no time to think about it. "I'm willing to pay 20 gold pieces to the one who accompanies me to Mystohr. Half now, half when we arrive."
There was a glimmer in the eyes of the half-orc woman, and within a second she had pressed her opponent's arm to the table hard. She grinned, rolling her shoulder. "Victory's mine, Gavek. You really should not have slipped in your concentration."
Gavek groaned, massaging his hand and wrist. "Oh, sod off Rami! That was a cheap shot!"
Rami smirked, rising from the table and putting the majority of the copper and silver coins on the table into a pouch which she tied securely. "All is fair when it comes to love, war, and coin. You know that." She then turned her attention to the man who had inadvertently given her the moment to seize victory. "You're good for that amount of money?"
Orlando blinked before looking around and swallowing, discreetly removing a monogrammed cloth pouch from inside his coat, opening it just a hint to show the gleaming coins inside. "I am. Are you good enough to do the job?" He had no idea why he was being adversarial, this was quite literally his last chance. He couldn't afford to offend his prospective bodyguard.
Rami, to the man's surprise, only widened her smirk. "What, you want to test me yourself? I would probably break your arm, fancy-boy." She folded her arms, showing the decent amount of scars that formed an almost irregular pattern on her skin.
The tiefling reached over and placed a hand on Rami's shoulder. "Let's not risk sending a potential employer to the medical ward, alright? Besides, you have a tab." She gestured towards the dwarf that were watching them.
Rami rolled her eyes and relaxed her shoulders. "You're no fun, Zacria." Fixing her eyes back on Orlando her voice became much calmer and business-like. "Ten gold coins now, ten gold coins when we arrive. I will protect you on the journey, but I expect to be compensated if I am injured. Consider it... an insurance, if I end up being unable to perform my job. Food and drink is on you, and I do not need a tent. Any questions?"
Orlando forced himself to not stammer as he responded, even if his knees were shaking. "No, I... I think that sounds reasonable. I... I have my cart ready outside, to leave within the hour. Would that be alright?"
Rami smiled at that, patting his shoulder, a bit harder than he expected. "Grand! Let me just get my pack and weapon and then we can be off." She paused, looking him over for a few intense moments. "Hm... maybe." She then walked off towards the counter, conversing with the dwarf.
The scarred halfing man walked up to Orlando, looking up and smiling with quite a few missing teeth. "Word of advice, softie? Watch yourself around that one. She can be... a handful."
Orlando blinked again, looking down at him. "A... a handful? In what way?"
