Chapter 1: Finding Belshire
Morning came too quickly, as it always does, and the three companions rose to ready them for the day ahead.
Tyler snickered as he packed his small kit. The though of how much useless crap he used to pack the night before catching a flight to Chicago, Atlanta, San Francisco, or where ever, to attend some ridiculous comic book or sci-fi convention. He recalled helping the cab driver wrestle three large suitcases into the trunk with his carry-on slung over his shoulder. It suddenly occurred to him how indulgent and impractical his life had been before he came here. He found that he was not only becoming accustomed to this Spartan living, but actually was starting to grow fond of its simplicity.
Carrying an ample supply of everything was not an option for them. They could only bring what could be easily carried, and did not encumber them so much that they could not be ready for action if taken by surprise. As horses trained for war were very expensive, and those for travel were too easily spooked, adventurers always packed light –taking only the bare necessities for daily survival, while traveling on foot. After weapons and armor, there were utility items: flints, hatchets, and knives, for example. Then there was the bedroll, and maybe a change of clothes; and finally some preserved food –dried fruits and meats, nuts, and hard biscuits. Consequently, it was not long before the trio was down in the common hall of the inn to break fast.
They sat quietly at the table, over their salted pork and fried potatoes, before Sola finally interrupted the silence, "I heard tell of a village north of here that is offering a bounty to be rid of a minotaur. It seems the beast has killed a couple hunters, slaughtered livestock, and made off with a young girl. I was thinking of going it alone, but I think it may be too much to handle for just one. Care to join me?"
"A few more coins in the purse is always welcome." Luva replied.
"Sounds like an adventure to me!" the outlander agreed, with a wide grin –more than happy to see that the prurient little trio was no going to be broken up.
"Good. Then we shall head north to Belshire," the orcess concluded.
When their stomachs were full, they left the Spear & Plow behind, and began their journey northward.
After making camp that night by the roadside, they were reminded of the luxurious comfort of a soft feather mattress. The only cushion against the cold, hard ground that night would be their bed rolls, but they could not imagine living the dreary life of a blacksmith or farmer –despite the convenience of a warm soft place to sleep. This was the life each one of them had chosen, and they accepted the hardships as payment for the excitement of adventure.
Earlier that day, Luva brought down a nice fat rabbit with a well-placed arrow, so fresh meat was on the menu with the standard fare of dried fruit and nuts. After eating, they drew straws to decide on a watch rotation, and Tyler lost. He had to stand the midnight watch.
He spent his time stoking the fire, and poking it with a stick. Time passed uneventfully, and he fell asleep quickly after waking Sola, but it only seemed a few minutes before the sunrise roused him from his slumber.
It was almost mid-day when the trio first caught sight of Belshire.
Luva and Tyler knew that the orcess was going to be somewhat of an impediment to an uneventful arrival in the small farming town, but they had confidence in their companion. She had won them over in short order. As soon as she spoke, it was obvious -to anyone- she was no savage beast.
They could see the people starting to gather on the edge of town at their approach. The three could noticed them talking and pointing, and the closer they got, the more people gathered. And when their eyes could make out the green hue of the she-orc, the little gathering started to become more and more unsettled.
When the adventurers made it within earshot, they started to make out words. Bandits, raiders, and killers, were among the most common. There were the also hopeful tones of words like heroes, adventurers, and champions, which were also audible, but sounded more like questions than declarations. However, this did not deter the three, as they pressed on toward the crowd –confident and calm.
When they reached the edge of town, within a pike's length of the gathering, the cacophonous babbling that ruled the air was suddenly replace by a dead silence. The tension was thick and uncomfortable, as the crowd parted down the center to allow the travelers to pass. While some altogether avoided eye contact, there were others that stared aghast, as if offended, or in rapt horror at the sight half-orc. In spite of this, Sola walk through the throng with her conspicuous dignity intact.
It was as if it was an all to common occurrence for her. She knew that her appearance made her the object of fear and ridicule, and she had spent most of her adult life having to win the trust of those she met before she was truly accepted. It was her burden to bear for now, but the she was confident that one day her heroic deeds would eclipse these prejudices, and her fame would precede her -earning her the respect of all she came across. She hoped that there would be a day that she would be greeted with smiles of gratitude rather than the reviled stares that were now cast her way.
All but one man stepped aside to let them pass. He stood at the far end of the crowd, and seemed to be somewhat of an authority figure. Dressed flamboyantly, he carried a horseman's saber on his hip, and wore a wide-brimmed hat adorned with a colorful plume. His clothing was just as colorful, with a deep green doublet that was cut high on his waist, a tight pair of burgundy trews, and black leather riding-boots that came up just above his knees. He certainly stood out amongst the farmers, artisans, and mongers of the village.
The trio halted when they reached him, and he greeted them, "Master Constable Gilford," he said, doffing his well-appointed cover into a sweeping bow that was both formal and dramatic, "at your service." He recovered from the courtesy, and continued, "I certainly hope you are here to attempt to collect on the bounty, and not cause any trouble for the good people of Belshire?"
Although his demeanor was polite, the last statement he made had a definite air of a stern warning.
