Trip-Let in be

It’s been a few days since the three brothers had managed to be alone together, but now, while guarding the wagon and the snoring Cookie, they take the chance to discuss the adventurers.

Despite being apparently identical, each of the triplets can easily identify their brothers and it’s Locket who speaks first.

“They’re not exactly what I was expecting.”

Chape nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I was expecting four shining Knights on gleaming white stallions.”

Ringo though, expands on that thought.

“The Bard and the Dwarf appear sane but the strange Halfling seems to have his own ‘world-view’ agenda and the dark-armoured Gladiator gives the impression of, almost, being on the wrong side! And what happened to the tall Elven Archer who was supposed to be with them?”

Chape nods again.

“I’m actually a little bit frightened of Fortu.”

Ringo agrees.

“I’m more than ‘a little bit frightened’ of him. Have you noticed how he tosses and turns hin his sleep? That man might genuinely be unhinged!  

It’s Locket who hushes his brothers down.

“They may not be what we were expecting, but Captain DeLeón gave us a direct order; Escort the adventurers all the way back to Cottis and get them to Lord Urdurel in one piece.”

This time it’s Ringo who nods his identical, mop-topped, head.

“And by the gods, despite finding ourselves in these times of trouble, we will not fail in our sworn duty.”

From Scrapper to Mapper

Turning over the smoothed down but formally crumpled sheet of parchment, Captain DeLeón traces his elegantly manicured fingertip over the crudely hand-drawn map.

“Bitboh wood… Scarp Burrow… The Tannery.”

The spelling is shaky and the penmanship appalling, but the map is still interesting, if not entirely accurate. Rather than miles, the distances seem to be measured in something called ‘horse-ride-days’. A few of the scribbled annotations like; ‘Rattman’ are less fun though, as beside ‘Scarp Burrow’, the mapper’s scrawled; ‘Captain De Liar!’ and ‘Posho De-Dick-face’.

Pushing aside his annoyance at the unsubtle slurs, he’s curious why the amateur cartographer had written ‘Scarp Burrow’ rather than the commonly accepted ‘Scarborough’ though, as no one’s referred to this village by its original name for almost thirty years.

The map is freshly drawn, so what does it mean?

Unfortunately, Captain DeLeón‘s men had confirmed that, whoever made the map, left with the adventurer group. It certainly wasn’t any of his men or Cookie the wagoneer and it was highly unlikely that the educated Dwarf; Banaal or the urbane ‘Slightly-Elf’; Rifkin had anything to do with it. That left the earthy smelling, cauliflower-eared Halfling and the scar-faced, heavily-armoured Human Gladiator. Considering the last conversation he’d had with them, his money was on Fortu.

Glancing down at the map again, Captain DeLeón finds himself suddenly sniggering, despite his earlier annoyance, as he notices the arrow pointing East towards…

‘FART-Haven!’

The Fountain of Youth

Captain DeLeón watches the adventurers leave on fresh horseback, accompanied by a sturdy wagon and three of his best men. Everything should be fine but he still finds himself worrying. Lord Urdurel entrusted him to protect this forward position and he’s proud of his High commander’s faith in him.

He’d handled the removal of Briefadel’s ‘scum’ mercenaries from the adventurers poorly though. He’d hoped that being subtle and removing the three men out of sight of their ‘Masters’, would have made everything easier but, instead, he’d managed to infuriate and accidentally antagonise the ex-gladiator; Fortu.

The other thing that bothered him was the story that the Demi-Elf Bard shared with him yesterday, during their debriefs. Could those strange, gourd-like barrels truly contain the ‘Elixir of youth’? That the pool they were drawn from would stave off the skeletal hands of the Grim Reaper himself?

Pulling off one of his heavy metal gauntlets, Captain DeLeón inspects the back of his own hand. He’s only in his forties and still full of vim and vigour, but the lines are beginning to show. Is it possible that, less than a month’s ride away, lies the secret to eternal life?

Still, it seems likely that, considering the fact that the very same pool lays atop the dimensional portal mentioned, this would also be the place Sir Briefadel and his hellish army would probably re-emerge from.

The Captain bites his bottom lip for a moment, before shaking his helmed head. One month there and one month back. Two months too long to relinquish his position to one of his underlings at such a vulnerable time. 

Smiling wryly, Captain DeLeón shrugs and mutters out loud.

“I guess I’ll just have to earn my immortality the old fashioned way; with tales of my glorious and heroic death in battle!”

His smile falters a little though.

“I wonder if that Rifkin fellow would compose and perform it for me?”

Bad Boys Stick Together

Standing to, a slightly scruffy, attention opposite their potential new Captain, Henshaw, Barbella and Doberman consider his pitch. As usual, it’s the shrewd-headed Henshaw who acts as their joint representative.

“So your offer is; abandon the adventurers, transfer our allegiance from Briafadel to Urdurel and reenlist in his army, but this time in a position of greater authority?”

Captain DeLeón shrugs.

“You must refer to him as ‘Lord Urdurel’, but overall; yes.”

Barbella sidles forward to stand beside his friend and teammate.

“With complete pardons for ALL our past crimes and we get to keep ALL our stuff?”

Captain DeLeón grinds his perfect teeth. He’s dealt with men like this all his life. Self serving men. Men who put their needs way above the needs of others. Men who simply lust for violence. Looking at Barbella, he can’t help but to add a barb to his offer.

“Unlike you, I’m not a thief. Your recent acquisitions and possessions are yours to keep, but I expect you to restrain yourself from pilfering from your new brothers-in-arms.”

Ignoring the insightful insult to his friend, Henshaw speaks again.

“What kind of ‘position of authority’ are you suggesting?”

Summing up, Captain DeLeón, is as concise as he can be.

“Well, you and Barbella will be immediately promoted to sergeant with a substantial increase in pay from what you were getting before.”

Narrowing his eyes, Henshaw indicates his boulder-shaped colleague.

“How substantial? We woz on a half share of loot with the adventurers and, before that, on 5sp per day under Briefadel.”

The handsome Captain brushes a hand through his thick but silvering hair.

“I can’t match an adventurer’s irregular ‘salary’ but the life of a soldier is, ironically, still a lot safer than adventuring and men of your… ability deserve a lot more than what Briefafel was paying you. How does 8sp a day sound? Plus three square meals on top.”

Henshaw nods in satisfaction at the notion of  full board and meals, plus 24 gold a month, before adding.

“And Doberman?”

Captain DeLeón visibly winces.

“Ah… Would you accept a Corporal’s salary of 6sp a day for him, as long as he serves directly under one of you?”

Henshaw and Barbella look at each-other wide-eyed and laugh simultaneously…

“Bagsy not it!”