An adventure to end all adventures

[Patrick]

Adventures like this always started in an inn. The inn, where our heroes presently found themselves was a dark and shabby establishment, nowhere near the fame of its luxurious counterparts in the rich suburbs of the city. Dimly lit tables were closely shoved together, most of them fully occupied by the filth of the slums, busy taking their daily dose of liquor, or losing their daily earnings at cards. Spillt beer and rotting chunks of food inside the cracks in the floorboards were evidence to the neglect to cleaning. The inn was as badly worn down as its patrons. No one complained of this strange union. The innkeep was happy to have the profits flowing in, as well as having quite a few well-muscled men around at all times, who easily kept the law enforcement away. And the patrons were happy to find a place where they were accepted and could drink the sorrows of their lives away.

 

One of the tables where there was still an empty chair was occupied by a most strange company. Of the five sitting around the once round table, only one looked human, the others each had definite characteristics, which distinguished them as not belonging here. Non-humans were not unheard of in the city, but they were definitely rare, and to see four of them so close together was definitely a rarity. Most of the patrons had already seen a dwarf, an elf or one of the undergrown halflings before, but never had they seen or heard of the fifth character who sat at the table, his furry tail sprawled out behind him. Only once had a regular made the mistake of treading on the tail earlier in the evening, and he had nearly paid for it with his life.

 

Catmen were of course not creatures suddenly sprang alive from distant folk tales and legends, their existence was well-based in history, and those well-versed in a particularly bloody chapter of history known and distorted in popular legend as the cat wars, were perfectly capable of the ferocity and viciousness of these creatures. Persecution and the threat of extinction had however curbed back these instincts and those specimens which had survived the millenia came from more peaceful bloodlines and hid their animalistic instincts under a civilized veil, fitting into the society around them. It was common to find them in the distant southern lands, but never before had one been seen so far north, sparking much gossiping inside the tavern. Feline ears easily picked up the gossip, but harmless words did not bring any reaction from the furred figure.

 

The catman did not carry any apparent weapons other than his claws, but it was a taste of these that the patron unfortunate enough to trod on his tail had discovered, almost losing an eye in the process. Violence was no stranger to the tavern, but it had been several weeks since such a violent outburst had been seen, and after it, even the regulars stayed away from the table.

 

"It's yourrrr turrrrn to play, my elven friend," the feline almost growled over the table. Despite the tone being used, the five of them were steadfast friends, their friendship forged together by the many hardships faced together.

 

"Patience, Hrrrriska. It is a virtue, and cats normally have it, able to wait hours for a bird to make a wrong move. I never understood how when you cross a human with a cat, this virtue is so irrevocably lost," the human interjected in a soft, silken voice, identifying the person behind the voice and under the hood as a female.

 

"We are not a cross between-" the catman started replying but was cut off by the elf. His voice was like honey, able to charm almost anyone into doing what he wished them to do, if its power was unleashed.

 

"Hrrrriska! Talia! Enough of that. We have a game to play-"

 

"Aye! And I'm fresh out of ale! Sweet maid'n of the golden tap of ale!" the sweet maiden referred to was the barkeep's daughter, a girl in her twenties, who had been somewhere amongst the last in line when the gods were handing out beauty and intelligence. "Fill up the flagons!"

 

"And bring some food!" the halfling shouted afterwards, ever eager to satisfy his unsatiable hunger.

 

All in all, it was a pretty typical party of adventurers, in a typical setting for receiving adventure. An adventure which was not far away from reaching them...

[Patrick]

It was after the fifth round of ale went round the table, that Cain, the dwarf realised what he had already realised the previous dozens of times they played this game. He simply sucked at it. Between the elf who could read his mind to find out what cards he had and the catman, who could determine from the scent he gave off whether he was bluffing or not, the odds were well against him. It nearly always came down to a match between Talia, Hrrrriska and the elf. Carandil was his name and he was the most recent member of the party, having joined a mere seven years ago. He had been a cast-out among his own people and it was more out of pity than necessity that Cain had suggested they take him with them. His abilities and magic proved most useful in the tightest of situations though, and he quickly became a valued member of the group. However, had Cain known of the elf's luck in cards, or more accurately, cheating, he might have suggested otherwise. Every other night he lost more than ten gold to his companion, who in turn paid for his ale, all in friendship.

 

The stereotypic change in air was well present when the inn door slammed open, and in stepped a member of the city guard. The adventurers looked up and immediately dismissed the figure. He wasn't anything like the customary old sages, or half crazy lunatics who gave them missions in such taverns. Sure enough, the guard had not come to see them. His mission lay elsewhere, as it seemed that the barkeep's less than beautiful daughter was his love interest. The adventurers interest quickly died down, as none of them was interested in watching the young guard kissing his girlfriend.

 

As the night dragged on, jokes became dirtier, and the regulars paid less and less attention to the adventurers, as their minds began to be clouded by the smoke and alcohol vapours they inhaled and the liquid courage they ingested. Surprisingly, or perhaps even because of the adventurers, there were no fights in the inn that night, for the first time in more than four months.

 

Dawn arrived and the adventurers were still playing their game. What eventually started the long chain of events that led to their deaths started at the unholy hour of 5 in the morning, when normal people would have already been asleep. Indeed many of the locals and regulars had drifted into a deep sleep in their seats, and even the inkeep was dozing off, leaning on his counter. His daughter had long disappeared with her lover, to a place where they could do whatever they did in private.

 

The woman entering the inn was not the usual employer, but she immediately piqued their interest, and Talia nudged Heff, the halfling awake as soon as she appeared. She seemed as out of place here, as did Hrrrriska himself, her rich clothes and dark skin speaking already volumes about her noble upbringing and origins. Rich golden embroidery decorated her deep green robe, and a pearl adorned her silver necklace.

 

She was definitely way out of her depth, but luckily for her most of the shady regulars were already well past their tolerance for alcohol.

[Patrick]

OOC: the previous chapter's ending has been modified, so if you've already read it, be sure to check again.