“Welcome to Grumbsy,” An orc greeted me as I stepped off of my voyage.
“Welcome to my story,” I replied, hopping onto the dock, examining the young town on
the west coast of the untamed continent called Kayos.
“I don’t know what that means,” The large dock attendant replied as he turned to the
person behind me. “Welcome to Grumbsy. Enjoy your stay.” I was going to ask him where one
could find adventure, seeing as I have a story to tell. But as I looked around the populated dock
and onwards to the rest of the village I realized I wouldn’t have to search for very long.
At the edge of the dock stood a distraught blonde woman nearly two decades old. She
was asking for assistance from anyone walking by.
They do say one has to avoid adventure not to find it on the continent of Kayos.
Her clothes were that of a peasant, but with the right adjustment she could be
considered quite the fair maiden by all standards. As a man of culture myself, I found her quite
fair the way she was. And as a man of honor, her fairness mattered not. Only her plight was
important to me.
Standing next to her, was a slightly shorter girl with a black pointy tail. She wore purple
robes, with a black belt tied around her waist. A sword sheathed on her hip much like my own.
There was some dirt on her face and I honestly couldn’t even tell if she was pretty or not.
“Excuse me ma’am,” I stepped up to the blonde extending my hand to make
acquaintance. ”Elrin Daun of Gladland The Fighting Writer. Did I hear you asking for the help of
someone that knows how to use a sword?” I patted the rapier at my waist with my other hand.
“Hannah,” She shook firmly. “And yes. I’m in need of great warriors.”
“You have a great warrior,” The girl behind her was irritated. At closer look, she had
lineage East of here. And if I couldn’t tell by her face, I would have known by her sword. A
katana, at least that’s what the paintings tell me. This girl was either a samurai, or she stole the
sword of one. Or she just thought katana’s were cool and bought one.
“Syrielle,” Hannah looked at the young warrior doubtfully. “Yes I trust you are great… But
I said I need more than one.”
“She did speak with plurality,” I quipped. While I’m not the greatest with words, I do know
how to handle myself. And I’ve been described as having a remarkable natural talent in my
sparring sessions. So I have to flaunt it when I can.
Turning back to me as if she’d already explained the situation Hannah asked, “So is your
sword available?”
A hearty laugh from behind me revealed that an obnoxious sailor was there to tear me
down. Roan had spent the entire voyage shittalking everyone on board. So much so his captain
threatened to kick him off the boat. But he was a pretty skilled seaman from what I saw so he
had quite the long leash to misbehave.
“Did you just ask this fancy boy to use his sword?” Roan, who was pretty confident we
were friends, slid his gloved hand around my shoulder, “Look at this tunic.” He tugged on the
green clothing from the Martin Academy, that I had yet to take off. “This pansy is nothing but a
bard. All boys like this guy do is follow, watch and talk about it later.” A fair assessment based
on nearly every other student the academy has ever produced.
“Yes, many bards like myself have poor priorities,” I pointed one finger in the air with
great pride. “But I was expelled from the academy, for having different priorities.”
Syrielle snorted, “So you’re stupid.”
Roan nodded to her, “Yup.”
Hannah on the other hand didn’t look that doubtful yet. In fact, she appeared rather
curious. “What priorities do you mean?”
I began to unlatch the sheath that held my sword to my waist. “They wanted me to work
on my grammar. My syntax. My spelling. They wanted me to read, understand and comprehend
the deeper nuances of text and language and what they call The True Art of Storytelling.”
Holding my weapon in the air I announced, “I won’t stand by while men and women save the
world and I simply tell the tales. I’ll stand side by side fighting right along with them. Breathing
the stories into life with my own blade, before telling the world with my pen.”
Turning around I looked out into the ocean, as if I could still see the world I once came
from. “If I had spent my nights studying and updating my literary talents, I wouldn’t have been
down the road training at The Styx. Honing my craft to be the swordsman you asked for on this
very day.” The dojo where I trained the blade wasn’t as well known as the Martin Academy, but
it had a decent reputation from my understanding.
“Okay maybe he’s not that bad,” Syrielle approved, apparently having heard of The Styx.
Inspecting me up and down she emphasized “Maybe.”
Hannah smiled softly at the young warrior. “Then I suppose we have enough. Let’s go.”
Once again I raised my finger to call attention to myself, but this time with great worry.
“Uhm. I would like to point out that I still have no idea what you’re asking me to do.”
“Right…” Hannah shook her head and rubbed her temples. She was clearly stressed
with whatever she’s dealing with. “Someone took a young girl named Tessa. She’s a neighbor
of mine and not the only child in the area that’s missing. I’m hoping my nephew was able to
borrow our other nearest neighbor Sam’s dog to track their scent. I came straight here hoping to
find men and women like yourselves.”
“How much does this job pay?” A short man in a black hood was suddenly standing to
my left. As if he’d been there the whole time.
A little spooked by his presence, I asked. “Who are you?”
“Uhm…” Hannah brought her hand to her mouth. “I…”
I looked at her with slight disappointment. “There’s no money is there?”
“I’ll get you coin. I promise.”
The man who asked the question was suddenly missing. But I was the only one
confused, “Where’d that guy go?”
“So can you help me?” Hannah’s eyes pierced into my soul with desperation. Not that
she needed to. The story sounded plenty interesting. Also missing kids is bad and I do care
about that.
“Gladly,” I replied. “Lead the way.”
Roan’s arm was still around me. “Well I don’t recall being invited myself?”
Behind us the captain of the ship shouted. “Hey, quit fartin around with those people and
help us unload. You want off my crew?”
Roan ended the embrace and shouted, “Stop telling me where and when to fart. It’s
weird.” He walked away and returned to doing his job, which I was quite confident he was going
to lose for insubordination any time now.
Feeling impatient, Hannah began to walk across town. There were a few dozen homes
and a very small market place. Right next to the shopping center was a massive Tavern & Inn
with big red words above an equally red door, “The Titan’s Trap.”
I didn’t ask too many questions at first because I was a little busy observing the young
village. Grumbsy couldn’t have been around for more than three years. My home continent of
Eurome had only recently begun colonizing the northern part of Kayos a few decades ago. At
least that’s what the records show. With the exception of a few villages, and tribes it was mostly
an unknown continent of anarchy.
That’s where the best stories are. In the mystery.
As we got to the other edge of town, just before entering the woods, we noticed a large
orc lying unconscious under a tree. He wore nothing more than a brown loincloth, and a battle
ax on his back. Upon closer inspection, it appeared he was lying in a puddle of his own vomit.
Standing beside him was a hafflin with his arms crossed shaking his head. “Ah geez, what are
we gonna do about you bud?”
“Hey Glish,” Syrielle exclaimed, getting the short man’s attention. “Is your ol pal
Vergusson having another rough day?”
“I’m sure he’d disagree,” Glish replied. The tiny shoeless man with furry feet wore a
green scaled tunic, with a black belt that had a variety of tiny tools on them. The most notable
item being a blacksmith hammer. There was also a large knife that could look like a sword in his
hands. “Where are you heading?”
“Found a job,” Syrielle told him.
“And you didn’t ask us?” The hafflin pointed at his snoring companion.
Syrielle pointed to the orc as well. “Glish, he’s unconscious.”
“He’d still beat anybody I know in a fight,” He answered with pure confidence.
“Does he have a drinking problem?” Syrielle looked more concerned than judgemental.
“Because I’ve been here a week and he’s done this every night.”
“Well he’s not pillaging so why are we complaining?” Glish replied.
Hannah was growing very concerned. “Excuse me. I don’t know if this argument is
important right now. Clearly the orc can’t be of any assistance at this time.”
Glish crossed his arms proudly. “Well it’s not like Vergusson is the only one around here
that knows how to crack some skulls open. You got a job? Count me in.”
Realizing we were mischaracterizing the situation I decided to clarify. “I would say this is
much more like charity work from the way it was explained to me.”
Glish looked irritated, “There’s no money is there?”
“Not a lot,” Hannah admitted, ”But I said there will be… And there will be.” After quickly
explaining the situation to him, she wasted no more time and headed straight out of town into
the woods.
“If there’s no money I’m not going,” The tiny dude recrossed his arms.
“Can you even do anything?” Syrielle shrugged her shoulders.
Following her lead I emphatically said, “Yeah you look a little small to be a fighter.”
Pulling his heavy smithing tool out and placing it on his shoulders like a warhammer he
announced, “I’m half of Vergusson and Glish bitch. I’ll show you a fighter.”
Syrielle pointed to me and said, “You better be calling him a bitch.”
“Of course I would never call you that.” It wasn’t clear if he was scared or genuine.
Not that it mattered to her. She nodded in approval and continued on after Hannah.
I inquired further about the mission. At first Hannah claimed she told me everything she
knew. Seeing as I was risking my life I insisted she at least try to think of something useful to tell
me.
“You seriously have no suspicions as to who took them?”
She shivered in fear as I asked, “We all have our theories. But the truth has been in front
of us all along. There are those who would call us racist for saying this, but only one man has
been seen around here who could commit such atrocities. The Devilman.”
I shivered a little. “Devilman?”
“Zorthos,” Glish sounded like they were talking about a local musician everyone was
familiar with. “Vergusson and I saw him a few weeks ago. We waved to him.”
The story wasn’t complete and I needed answers. “Did he wave back?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t be fooled,” Hannah complained. “You know what he truly is. What people like him
do. They eat children. The demon was likely looking for worshippers to join his cult.”
“So this Zorthos has a cult?” I asked with a little irritation. This was all very useful
information that could have been disclosed in the initial conversation.
Syrielle appeared annoyed as well. “To be clear. I’ve heard about cult activity in the area
recently. And we know there’s a helkin named Zorthos. And we have now learned there are
missing children. Another thing we are sure of, is that we are on Kayos. Which means there
could be a thousand other things that took the kids before demons and people in spooky
cloaks.”
“Yeah,” Glish shouted excitedly. “I heard there’s a powerful elf in the area. But I heard he’s not doing
anything cool, he’s just pranking people. There’s also Nydorri who is some weirdo that lives in
the woods and sometimes ask Vergusson to fight bad people. Also I hear there’s even a tribe of
elves that are worshiping evil gods under the ground and stuff like that.”
Syrielle patted him on the head, “Not to mention all the indigenous Hafflin tribes.”
“We can get rowdy,” Glish pumped his chest. “I’m just saying. Elves you know?”
Fun fact about my name, it’s a pseudonym. I chose it after elf; the greatest teacher I’d
ever known. Causing my irritation with his bigotry, “No I don’t know. Would you mind explaining
it to me?”
The samurai shook her head. “He’s been bitching about them all week.”
Glish raised his hands in the air as if what he was about to say somehow justified his
ignorance, “Look I’m told that dwarves and elves got beef and I’m with the dwarves!”
Hannah had stayed quiet for a bit but finally spoke up. “What kind of elf just takes
children for no reason?”
“You no it’s pretty racist to think they wouldn’t.” The Hafflin snapped back, “Not every elf
is a trickster with a plan. Most of them are just dickheads.”
Before I said anything, Syrielle advised, “Don’t even ask him about dublins.”
“Who trusts those tall motherfuckers?”
Thankfully it wasn’t a long walk, and there weren’t many more questions to ask about the
mission. Though, I was very curious about the town of Grumbsy itself and the neighboring
region.
Hannah, who I correctly guessed was two decades old, had moved here by boat with her
family many years ago. She lived in a small house in the woods just outside of town. There were
several other homes in that little area, but they were separated by enough trees and wilderness
not to be called a village.
Syrielle had arrived on the same dock that I did only a week before. She was born 19
years ago on the sometimes-island-sometimes-peninsula nation of Hellas. As I suspected the
samurai had lineage in the far east. Her grandfather began traveling the world many years ago.
Reaching Hellas trekking through the Southern continent of Mesopia.
She was raised and trained with the blade by her father, Chozen Hano, who in turn was
raised and trained by his father as well. Her mother, Elyra Natchios, was apparently just as badass as Chozen,
coming from some smaller island of women soldiers.
Elyria passed away shortly after Syrielle was born due to illness. And Chozen passed
away several years ago from a different illness. With her family gone she traveled Eurome
searching for purpose, until she decided to look for it in Kayos.
Glish was born of Norrgard to the North of us all. The hafflin and his step brother Liam
were struggling blacksmiths in the town of Odina. A few years ago an old friend of Liam’s, Trant,
reached out and told them to head to Grumbsy for work.
Trant was the owner of The Titan’s Trap and the de facto leader of the town. He’d
reestablished Grumbsy a few years ago, after it had been pillaged and burned to the ground.
The ever so eager businessman hopes to turn the town into the heart of Northern Kayos.
Though at this point Glish was pretty sure that was just a sales pitch. So far, he was
better off competing with the other blacksmith’s for work on an established continent than
hanging around Grumbsy. But Liam insisted they stuck around. Having not met Liam, the story
wasn’t that interesting to me. And Glish was a bad storyteller.
The specific details of their lives didn’t seem too important to share, and they didn’t
provide too many anyways. Not that I couldn’t describe the exact details if I needed to. As I
explained to Syrielle when she asked about my life, “Several years ago, I learned a meditation
technique known as The Deep Dream. One of the many benefits is I can replay moments in my
life exactly as they happen whenever I choose. Remembering any event I experience near word
for word. Most people use it to process their feelings. I plan to use it, as a few before me have,
to tell stories.”
Of course there are other benefits to the deep dream. And Syrielle was most interested
in learning more about it. She even offered to show me a thing or two about my sword in
exchange for knowledge of my meditation techniques. Though I needed to see her in action
before I trusted her like that.
As promised the walk was only a few hours. When we arrived at the farm we saw a
young boy, with no dog, crying. Hannah dashed to hug her nephew, “Danny, what’s wrong?”
“He’s a jerk,” The boy shouted. “He won’t let us take the dog.”
I looked around without seeing any other houses. “Uhm… Is there only one dog?”
“Our other neighbor had a few dogs, but things happen around here sometimes,”
Hannah explained without explaining. She grabbed her nephew’s face and said, “You did your
best. Just go home okay.”
As the young boy took off, we didn’t even ask questions. We just followed her a very
short distance away to another cabin. Certainly nicer, but there was nothing particularly fancy on
the outside. Though even a quick peek through the window, I could at least see a fancy vase.
“Okay,” Hannah took a breath. “He’s always had a problem with his neighbors. Maybe
he’ll respond better to… Working men on the job.”
Placing my hand on her shoulder, I assured her, “We’ll handle it.”
Glish was already walking towards the house and I quickly followed him. Syrielle was
right behind me but Hannah grabbed her arm. “Syrielle, stop. Let them handle this.”
The samurai politely replied, “Oh he hates women? Okay cool.”
As Glish hopped on the steps I could hear the dog barking. The little guy complained,
“What kinda jerk doesn’t help his neighbors? He’s gotta be a massive asshole. I bet he eats
farts.”
“We had to talk shit to get you to come along.”
“So we know it’s a good strategy.”
I was able to step on the steps that Glish jumped on because unlike Glish I’m normal
sized. My hafflin companion quickly knocked on the door with me behind him holding my right
hand on my heart and my left in a waving position. The least threatening pose I could make.
Right below me Gish crossed his arms. I couldn’t see but I’m pretty sure he snarled.
When the door opened, a bald beardless man stepped out. His shirt was well kept, and
his pants were neat and clean. There were glasses over his eyes and a curious smile upon his
lips.
“Ooh visitors,” He announced while his dog barked even louder behind him. “I don’t
suppose you want to use my sister’s dog as well now do you?”
“Look mister…” Glish started.
Before he could say anything else I cut him off, “May I ask what the reason is you aren’t
willing to help your neighbors?”
“First it’s this, then it’s that,” He waved his hand. “I offered to help. For a price. Since
there are several children involved, I figured my services were worth quite a bit. But I suppose
not.”
I hated everything about him. “How much?”
“5 Gold,” He said as if that wasn’t absurd.
Glish was furious, “How the hell do you expect them to pay that shit?”
“Please, do not yell,” The man raised his hand at the tiny one. His dog behind him
barked even louder. “I offered him a payment plan. With interest. The young boy simply didn’t
understand. I know they can’t pay it right now, but I also know they’re working folk.”
Snapping his fingers Glish proudly said, “I’m working folk. So let’s talk about rates.”
Amused by the hafflin, Sam invited us inside. Once there I noticed a small bookcase with
numerous titles I didn’t recognize. He offered for us to sit down before crudely telling his dog to
be quiet. His pet whimpered and obeyed.
“The way I see it,” He explained, “I’m the only man in the area with a dog…”
Seeing my opening I asked, “Is there a library nearby? Or do you own all of these?” It felt
like a silly question, I just didn’t know how else to get the conversation to books.
“No…” He shook his head with great curiosity. “Those were purchased from traveling
writers. They go along with my other collection of trinkets,” His hand waved to an assortment of
paintings and tiny scultpures. “And there’s even more than that.”
Ignoring the other stuff I brought the conversation back to what I felt I was good at, “You
know I’m something of a writer myself.”
His eyebrows raised, “Are you?”
Glish, who had climbed into one of the chairs, smiled and put his hand on my shoulder.
“I knew we brought you along for a reason.”
“I brought you.”
Ignoring the banter Sam ecstatically rose to his feet. “I recognize that tunic. You’re from
the Martin Academy aren’t you? You must be magnificent. What’s your name?”
“ELRIN DAUN OF GLADLAND THE FIGHTING WRITER!”
Glish held his hands out waving them emphatically as my hype man. I couldn’t get a
read on whether he thought we were friends or not. He was a complicated fellow, but not really.
“The fighting writer eh…” Sam examined me. “You good with that sword?”
“I like to think so…” I said. “And If I’m not, I guess the stories won’t be told.” He laughed
and I laughed as well, before I added, “The truth is I’m rather untested, but I think there’s an
adventure in that. A story to tell. Most writers stand behind the warriors and watch. I will stand
alongside them and create.”
The dog owner looked very pleased. “A fighter who writes the stories from his own
perspective. A brilliant genre. Much like Wiltor the War Writer and Sylvie The Savage Scribe.”
“The who and the what now?”
“You’ve never read their tales?” Sam was so excited and disappointed. “Oh they must be
too sloppy for the educators who taught you to suggest their readings. But their books are in
many of the libraries of Norgard if you ever find your way up there. And if you’re interested in
some simple drawings maybe even check out Baylon the Battle Bard. He’s got an interesting
blend of images and words. But all storytellers pretty much do the same thing you’re doing.”
“So they like…” I thought I was original until now. “They all… fight and write.”
“Yeah just like you said…” His smile did not match my emotions at all.
“I guess I need to read more…”
Sam licked his lips with excitement, “I’m sure you’ve read plenty of excellent work. A
man like you must be extremely well educated. With some incredible writing of your own. You
wouldn’t by chance have any on you?”
Nonchalantly pulling my notebook out of my pocket I said, “I’m on an adventure. I
wouldn’t dare bring my most prized possession with me.” Beaming from ear to ear I walked over
to him.
He stood up, reaching for the book as I began to hand it to him. Only to pull it back,
“Now now.” I wagged my finger in his face. “I seem to recall we need something from you. I
won’t lie and call myself successful yet, so I have to pick and choose my freebies. And you
haven’t exactly presented yourself as friend.”
“Of course,” Sam shook his head happily. “If I can just read that notebook fresh from the
author. A poor writer on the rise. I’ll waive the fee. 5 gold was a ridiculous price anyways.”
When I extended my hand again he pulled his back. “But you better not be messing with
me. This better be good stuff. If it’s not, what am I waiving the fee for?”
Showing great confidence I nodded, despite being extremely nervous. This man was
weird as hell. And seemed to have a decent understanding of literature. He grabbed the
notebook with excitement, and I grew excited as well.
My nervous energy disappeared the second he grabbed it. What was there to be scared
of? I was probably the only writer on the continent. These books were likely purchased in
libraries far to the west of here.
I may not be the best, but I was trained at the Martin Academy.
“The fuck is this shit?” sam looked at me in frustration. “Do you not understand how to
capitalize people’s names?”
I was cringing with embarrassment, “Crap I thought I fixed all those in editing,”
He continued to glare with disdain at my paperwork, “This is just a shitty version of
Rapuznel, but it’s trying to be Beauty and the Beast.”
“I’m surprised you picked up on that on page one,” I replied somehow believing I could
shift his opinion towards noticing the cleverness of my homage. Also I was genuinely surprised
he picked up on that, I didn’t mean for it to be clear that early in the story.
He threw the notebook back in my face. “You think you can con me with this trash.” The
dog started barking louder, “Shut up Mut, I don’t have time for you.” The dog didn’t stop. “If you
don’t have 10 gold for me you might as well leave. I support the arts, I don’t support wanna be’s
like you.”
Glish stomped his foot and pointed a furious finger at me, “You had one job.”
“I feel like this is a disproportionate response to how bad it was.”
The Hafflin shook his head. “You said you were a writer.”
“I was expelled!” My shame became my winning argument. “That’s my whole arc dude.”
The dog barked louder than before. And out of the corner of our eyes, we both saw it
happen. Sam kicked the dog. The son of a bitch kicked the fucking dog. As the hound
whimpered away the old man turned back to shout at us, but Glish’s hammer had already
slammed on the foot that hit the mut.
To my own surprise, I was right behind my tiny ally. Kicking Sam in the chest launching
him to the ground. Once he crashed, Glish rolled to the other side of him, and shoved his own
tiny foot to the normal sized throat.
“The wrong people see something dirty like that and…” The hafflin slid his thumb across
his own throat. “Even dirtier things might happen.”
“Lucky for you,” I knelt down and patted the ground in front of the dog. The scared
animal slowly crept over to sniff my hand. “We’re just gonna kick your ass and take your dog.” I
unlatched the leash from the post that held it down. Not knowing Glish that well I was hoping my
words stopped him from killing the man. Warriors and murderers are not the same thing, and I
never intend to lose sight of that.
My smiling ally took his foot off the pretentious prick’s throat and leaned forward nose to
nose. “Tell your sister, if she don’t find a better puppy sitter, she ain’t getting him back.”
With the leash in hand, I walked right outside to find Syrielle and Hannah waiting
eagerly. Both had proud smiles on their faces, though Hannah’s worried demeanor returned
rather quickly. After greeting the dog, she held out a doll of Tessa’s.
Knowing exactly what to do, and likely feeling thankful for being saved from his cruel
uncle, the mut sniffed across the ground and led us through the woods.
Within an hour, we came upon a cave leading into a large hill. Could almost even be
called a tiny mountain. The dirt in front of the cave had tracks consistent with activity. Confident
this was the right location, Hannah took the dog and returned home.
Myself, Glish, and Syrielle slowly crept in. Thankfully all of us were actually pretty quiet.
We snuck through the shadows working our way out of the falling sun. As we turned a corner,
we were able to see a light, likely from a torch.
Our tiniest ally moved forward, sticking his head around the corner before waving us
over. Syrielle quickly stepped behind him and peaked over him. Realizing these moments came
very rarely, I stepped behind her and kneeled over as well so that we were all peaking around
the corner stacked on top of each other.
I quickly examined the group of people holding the torches.
One wore a long black cloak and appeared rather old. Two more were dressed in dark
gray clothing. As I looked closer I saw in the far corner of the cave, several children tied up
inside a wooden cage. Standing near them was a 4th man I didn’t spot at first. The tallest of
them, he wore red full plate armor, with a long golden cape that sported a red “A” on it. On his
hip was a red long sword.
“An Aresian,” I whispered, tucking back behind the cave wall. “We’re pretty fucked.” The
Sons of Ares as many called them hailed from Olympo, The Capital of Hellas. The greatest
young fighters from around all Eurome, The Medirreon Iles, and even the Southern continent of
Mesopia, were recruited by King Caul at young ages to be honed into the deadliest of warriors.
I had trained for years at this point, and I had been told my talents were admirable.
Based on how I’d outperform many of my sparring mates in class I’d have to agree I had some
talent at least. But I had no delusions of being a master swordsman. And no one wears Aresian
armor or carries the red blade without being a master.
“I say we cut the sneaky shit and just go right in there,” Glish said proudly but still
making an effort to be quiet.
Syrielle thought for a second but eventually showed a face of disappointment. “Normally
I’m not for cowardly tactics, but my priority is those kids. If we just charge in we can put them in
danger.”
“Well,” Glish said with mild disdain. “I don’t like fighting like a bitch, but ninjas are pretty
cool too I guess. So we might as well give it a shot.”
“Okay, so since you’re small I say you go first…” Syrielle suggested.
Glish nodded, “Just say I’m the toughest.”
“No.”
He snorted as if he somehow won the argument, then turned to sneak away.
“Uhm…” I noticed something odd. “Glish… Where is your hammer and dagger?”
The hafflin looked at his empty waist. “What the…”
“Fuck!” Syrielle sounded horrified.
To my left a voice from the shadows, as friendly as could be, announced. “Oh calm
down. Your sword is right here…” A torch lit on the wall revealing a man elf just a little bit shorter
than Syrielle standing a few feet away. His long finger was pointing at the katana lying in the dirt
next to him. Glish’s hammer was in his other hand, and my very own rapier was on his waist
along with the hafflin’s other tools. He then politely continued, “And I technically didn’t even
touch it. But I will if you don’t relax.”
“Who are you?” I took a non menacing step forward.
“Nosikol,” The thief bowed. “I’ve been hired to guard the men inside. You never know
what Kayos might bring to disrupt their affairs. Heroes come and go like the wind. The best part
for you is, they didn’t pay me enough not to have my own fun. That costs extra,” His fingers
rubbed together.
“What’s stopping me from killing you now?” Syrielle took a step, but notably didn’t attack.
“I don’t know…” Nosikol replied. “What’s stopping you?” He tossed the hammer to his
free hand and held it above the katana threatening to smash it. Then he gripped the hilt of my
sword with the other. “Just take a step back, and I’ll lower the hammer, and we can play a quick
game.”
She nodded and did as he requested. There was no reason to trust him. There was even
less reason not to. We didn’t say it outloud, but we all understood this man was powerful. And
without even having our weapons, what chance did we stand?
“Lovely,” The elf took a step back and put the hammer back in the other hand. “So… I
think what could be fun is to ask each of you a riddle.” He held three fingers up, counted them
down as he spoke. “If you all answer correctly, I will quietly drop your weapons and walk on out
of here. If two of you get it right, and one of you gets it wrong, I will drop your weapons very
loudly, shout that you are here, and then walk out of here. But… If two of you get your answers
wrong, I will throw your weapons back at you, and then I will fight you.” As he made a fist he
said, “If all three get it wrong I won’t give you back your weapons. I’ll just kill you with them
where you stand.”
Before I could respond, Syrielle snapped, “Lay it on me.”
“You first miss?” Nosikol pointed to her.
“Did I stutter?” She crossed her arms.
What does man love more than life
Fear more than death or mortal strife
What the poor have, the rich require,
And what contented men desire
What the miser spends and the spendthrift saves
And All men carry to their graves?
I’d heard it several times. Professor George, the old man who taught me most of what I
know about the language I am writing and also the man to personally expel me, had said the
riddle multiple times in classrooms, and social gatherings. My mouth opened, but Nosikol
pointed an angry finger at me.
“Oh helping each other is an auto DQ my friend,” He pointed the finger up and wagged it
implying I was naughty. “She asked to go first. Wouldn’t want to ruin her chances.”
When I looked at her, she appeared unphased by the banter. Holding her hand to her
chin as she pondered. I never really asked her about her education level. There was no way for
me to have any understanding of her ability to get the answer.
After several minutes, she looked at me with disappointment and started to admit, “I’ve
got…” Then her fingers snapped, and both our eyes widened as she found the answer.
“NOTHING.” She managed to whisper, but was still pretty loud. Much quieter she said, “All of
that describes nothing.”
“Very good,” Nosikol nodded. “Tiny one… You ready for your question?”
“I look like a bitch?”
“…Yeah.”
Glish was offended but tried to act tough, “Just give me the riddle you… Bitch.”
Three lives have I
Gentle Enough to sooth the skin,
Light enough to caress the sky,
Hard enough to crack rocks
“Well that’s a stupid fucking question,” The blacksmith threw his hands in the air. “I mean
what has three lives? That doesn’t make sense. And… what… Like did you say clouds?”
I knew the answer the moment Glish said that word. If only I could tell him.
“No you said sky… What’s even in the sky?” He scratched his chin. “Wait clouds are in
the sky. Aren’t clouds water?” HE GOT IT! I was fighting every urge not to tell him to stop
thinking. “And water feels good on the skin. And I’ve seen ice crack rocks. So I’m thinking of
water, but I don’t want to get it wrong.” FUCK!
Syrielle looked right at me. Obviously having realized Glish was circling the answer as
well. Thankfully she was also smart enough not to even make a noise, but every piece of her
wanted to. Glish snapped his fingers, “How many guesses do we get?”
“One.”
“Well fuck…” The hafflin was not happy and we were having nervous breakdowns.
“Well… Nothing else makes sense, so I’m going with it. Water!” There was a long pause, so
long that the relaxation I felt after Glish got the answer right vanished back into full panic as I
thought perhaps I had the answer wrong all along.
“Yup!”
The trickster looked at me.
King and queen may cling to power and the jester’s got his call
I am the most common, but I can rule them all
What am I?
I hadn’t heard this one before, but an answer came quickly to me. “As a man without
what you described, I can tell you exactly what makes the common man richer than the powerful
man who craves more.” I took a dramatic pause. “Happiness.”
“Nope…” Nosikol promptly dropped the weapons and shouted. He didn’t shout words,
just made sure the noise was very loud. Before leaving he mocked, “I thought you were the
smart one?” I felt like I let him down the most. He was really rooting for me.
“It’s an ace from a deck of cards idiot…” Glish pounded his fist to his head.
Syrielle was equally disappointed, “You couldn’t have sat on it?”
A loud baritone voice boomed through the walls from deeper into the cave. “Looks like
we’re not alone are we?”
“I’m sorry guys…” It was utterly humiliating. So far this was not my greatest day.
Glish was clearly the angrier ally, “I feel like you just really want to tell people you’re
unhappy.”
“That’s exactly what it was,” Syrielle rolled her eyes.
The voice spoke again, “Why don’t you come out from the shadows and join us?”
Chills ran down my spine, and I could tell Glish felt the same. Syrielle on the other hand
quickly scooped up her weapon. Then tossed us ours. “Get moving weiners.” Then she just
stepped around the corner. I didn’t hesitate to follow, using my skills as a thespian to portray
confidence I did not have.
From the other side of the dimly lit coriddor, standing closest to us, the Aresian had
raised his leg to rest his foot on a rock with his hand holding the hilt of his sheathed sword.
“Welcome.” His other hand extended out to us. “I assume you’re here to witness or even
partake in this ritual?” Obviously he didn’t actually think we were there for that reason and was
just being silly.
From behind him the old man in the cloak revealed a raspy and worn voice, “It’s almost
time.” He coughed right after speaking. “We can’t delay much longer. End these intruders now.”
The Aresian smiled at his elder. “It shall be done.” He turned his attention to the other
two men in gray. “Stay put, I’ll handle this.” Locking eyes with me he marched straight forward.
“Okay,” I said to my allies. “Our best chance is…”
Syrielle placed her hand on my shoulder and walked forward, “Stay put, I’ll handle this.”
A part of me wanted to stop her, but my body just locked. She sauntered forward
flaunting exaggerated shoulder movements towards the War God’s Preferred Disciple without a
care in the world. I felt more cowardly than ever in my life. A true man would have stopped her.
A true warrior would have stepped in front of her and fought for her.
Yet I obeyed her orders, and stayed put. She said she’d handle it, and along with my
cowardice, I had almost never been more curious in my life.
Pulling his own weapon from its sheath the Aresian laughed. “So you men have your
women fight for you?”
“Ah let me smash him,” Glish was pumping his black smith hammer in his tiny fist.
“We’re from a less archaic part of the world,” Syrielle told her opponent as she
unsheathed her own weapon. “Lady power and stuff. Sorry to be so offensive to your old ways.”
“As long as I can kill you all the same,” The Aresian pointed his sword towards her.
“Oh please try your best. For the culture.” She held her hands out and extended her
sword in the least defensive position she possibly could.
He smiled, and then he lunged with an attack so swift I barely saw it. But Syrielle did.
And what I didn’t see at all was her even faster parry. His red blade deflected off to his side and
hers came straight for his head.
From the way he dodged, it was obvious her attack would have been lethal if he hadn’t moved.
The larger broad sword swung wildly to keep the samurai at bay. She took a couple of
comfortable steps back. Almost like she allowed him to regain his footing. Once he did, she
swiftly put a little pressure on.
She faked a few strikes, and he fainted some himself. Neither fully attacked until she
pulled another long swing from him. Once again she parried the sword out to the side. This time
though, before he could react, the tip of her katana slid straight through the opening in his armor
at his throat. Blood spurted out of his mouth as he dropped to the floor.
And I now understand why I was expelled from the academy of writing. For while I have
skills as a warrior, I strongly lack the linguistic abilities to help You, My Audience, understand
what just happened before my very eyes. Because I can’t think of a way to describe it any better
than what the hafflin next to me said in the moment itself.
“Holy fuck that was bad ass.”
The other two cultist peons clearly trembled in fear, while the allies of Syrielle ran to
her side with pride, weapons drawn. The man in the black cloak rose to his feet as his peons
took a few steps back. “You will not keep this curse upon me. I shall rid my wretched soul of this
hex once and for all.”
“None of us know what you mean,” I explained.
The sorcerer began muttering to himself. At first it was in a different language none of us
understood. He raised his long black staff with a red emerald on the end of it.
“I SUMMON WRATH!
I SUMMON VENGEANCE!
I SUMMON MALFEASANCE!”
As he spoke the last line, a second deeper voice could be heard speaking alongside
him. A gust of wind came from nowhere, and the white of his eyes faded to black. The two
voices bounced through the walls.
He pointed his staff at the girl who killed his greatest warrior. She took one step forward,
and a red beam blasted her in the stomach knocking her back. Just as I stepped towards her a
similar attack knocked me over as well. My chest felt like it was being held to a fire. Then within
a moment the burning agony grew deeper and spread throughout my body.
I screamed. Loud and blood curdling as the world faded to black, then red, then brown
and I found myself in my old classroom. My hand was cramping from writing so profusely yet
every line I wrote turned to ash as I scrolled down the never ending paper.
My classmates were shaking hands with our professors. Scores of people out in the
crowds were reading books written by the men who I sat side by side with for years. And yet not
one cover had the name Elrin Daun of Gladland.
Their families were lined up closest to us.
Sitting at my desk I noticed two graves beside me. Inscribed on one of them was the
name of the woman who brought me into this world. And the other belonged to Mary Daun. The
first person to show me love, and teach me the meaning of the word home.
When I looked back at my desk, letters slowly began to appear without burning away.
You didn’t run to the sword.
You ran from the pen.
You suck.
There are no other words to say.
You just fucking suck.
“You could have studied all you wanted Elrin,” Standing above me was Professor
George. The plump old man with a bushy white beard glared down with a frown. “You never had
it. The focus. The attention to detail. These aren’t things you learn. These are things you are.”
He leaned in nose to nose, “People could have stayed with us and done it all. People could hear
the adventures and tell and write them later. People could write fiction and poetry. People could
write performances and then play them. People could have lived the life you always dreamed.
But you couldn’t. Because you’re you Elrin. Because you’re you.”
When he finished speaking, he blurred into a haze and swirled like a tornado as a light
shined on my face and I could see the fog clearing. The familiar voice of Syrielle screamed out,
“Why are you here?”
Clearly she was dealing with her own issues. Yet I felt like she was asking the question
of me, and I was compelled to answer. “Because I’m not the worst.”
And I fucking meant it.
The double voices of the old man shouted, “What are you waiting for you scoundrels?
I’ve put them on the floor. End this now.”
Both of the sorcerer’s goons pulled short swords from their wastes. One stepped
towards me, and the other towards Syrielle. I tried to stand, but my body only shook with pain.
Paralyzed by the spell cast upon me.
My lady ally was pushing herself to her feet, but there was little she could do to her
oncoming attacker. And there was absolutely nothing I could do to mine. After all those years of
studying sword and pen, the moment I embarked out into the world, the world said, No. You are
no adventurer.
He stepped in front of me. Raising the blade above my head. I tried to grip my sword, but
my hand wasn’t moving quickly enough. I thought to close my eyes. But I chose this life. Even if
no one reads of my brief journey, I will not die a coward. And so I stared him directly in the eyes,
for at the very least, I can haunt him for the rest of his days.
His shoulder twitched, and the end was nigh. I almost didn’t even hear the loud roar that
echoed the cave walls around me, but I sure saw the flaming spear come flying out of nowhere
and stick right into the chest of my would be attacker.
“LEAVE THE CHILDREN ALONE!”
Fighting through the paralysis, I was able to turn my neck just enough to see him. With
skin as red as blood, and the horns of a goat protruding from his head. It couldn’t have been
anybody else. Zorthos, The Devilman.
The speer in the cultist’s chest erupted into flames and disappeared. In a moment, a fire
ax appeared in the helkin’s hand. He wasn’t that much taller than myself, but his muscles
were quite a bit more noticeable.
“Zorthos!” Glish shouted. “Get him!”
The man who was charging Syrielle ran straight past her and attacked the devilman. The
two exchanged blows for a quick moment, but Zorthos was more than capable of dispatching
his foe in a duel.
Syrielle had managed to get to her feet, and was marching slowly towards the sorcerer.
The redman walked behind her ax at the ready. “You stepped in the wrong cave demon!” Our
enemy’s voices shouted pointing his staff at us once more and continued to speak in a foreign
tongue.
Another red beam blasted Zorthos’s red chest. It barely fazed our demonic savior. The
helkin simply walked past the samurai growling, “Pathetic sorcerer. You think any nightmare
could compare to my life.”
Looking worried, the sorcerer slammed his staff to the ground again shouting more
incantations. A pair of black orbs suddenly appeared next to Zorthos. Purple tentacles reached
out of the dark floating balls wrapping around his arms. A third just above him and another
tentacle wrapped around his neck to choke him.
Syrielle continued to march forward.
I glanced over to see Glish, who was forcing himself to his feet. Based on his pain he
was obviously also blasted with a red beam earlier. There was no chance I was going to be
outdone by that tiny man, so I myself began to truly force myself to my feet. The pain burned
every inch of me, but I was not to be undone that day.
Within a moment both of us were standing. And at the same time we stepped forward. A
fourth black orb appeared above Syrielle just before she reached the sorcerer. Another tentacle
had curled its way around her whole body trapping both her arms. She held her sword tight, but
couldn’t move one bit.
I took another step. And a third. Glish was moving at the same pace, only his legs were
shorter, so I was moving much faster. With every step I could feel my bones rattling and my
blood was boiling. Each muscle was going to explode at any second.
But there’s this thing about me, I’ve suspected about myself. Something I’ve never been
able to test, until I come face to face with a moment like this. And the very truth I’ve always
known is that I do not turn down.
And our foe was soon too. I could see it in the caster’s eye. It was all over his face. He
was at his mana’s end. All of his might and concentration was held on 4 tentacles. I just need to
get there with my rapier. I can do it. I can kill him. I can save Syrielle. I can save Zorthos. I can
save the children.
I am Elrin Daun of Gladland. The Fighting Writer.
And I failed at my dream to chase another.
And I will fight through this nightmare to save the world.
“Elrin!” Gish screeched. The hafflin barely made any progress on his march, but was
pointing his little knife up at Zorthos. “I’m too short!”
But I was not. My eyes were too focused on the main target, I forgot to check the details.
With one more step, I was close enough to the devilman. My blade swung true and the tentacle
holding his right arm was sliced in half. A loud screech from the orb pierced my ears.
Zorthos brought his hand back, summoned his fire ax, and launched it at his target. His
weapon cut straight through the tentacle holding Syrielle, and on to the sorcerer who barely
blocked it with the staff.
His mystical weapon shattered, and with her constraint torn away the samurai stepped
forward again, both tackling and stabbing the dark spell caster in one move. The double voices
screamed, and a massive flash of red light blasted us all in the face.
I fell through a white cloud, landing very softly without knowing how. I was kneeling in a
puddle, for some reason I knew it was tears. My face was dry, but they had to be mine. Gazing
into my reflection, I wasn’t there. Instead, it was the old face of the man who bore the seed that
grew into me. The lazy selfish prick snickered. “You didn’t want my name John?”
“Don’t call me that,” I splashed him away. “Sack of shit.”
Hundreds of Mr. Smith’s faces began to appear in the pools around me. Until suddenly I
was greeted by a far more paternal voice, “What are you doing? Focus… You’ve learned to
control your dreams when you needed to long ago.”
Once the voice spoke, I took a breath and recalled my mind back to me. There were
trees growing throughout the puddles, so I rose to my feet. The same familiar voice spoke
again, “This isn’t a nightmare unless you need it to be. Control The Deep.”
I waded through the shallow water, and worked my way around the trees until I came
upon a clearing of red grass. Sitting on a tree stump, was the half-elf whose forename I adopted
for my own. He was writing in the same journal I’d seen him scribble in every day. There was a
cup of tea steaming at his side. His hand softly reached out to another stump near him, “Come
join me. Unless you’d rather spend time with your father?”
“I told you not to call him that,” I sat next to the first teacher I ever had. As well as the
only man I ever wanted to call a father. I wasn’t that surprised, but didn’t know what else to say,
“What are you doing here Elrin?”
“Well John,” He was the only person I still let call me that and I felt it was pretty needless
to explain, “Considering it’s a dream, I think we can both assume I’m here to…” He rolled his
hands hoping I’d finish.
“To teach me something I already know…”
He was proud, “You’ve learned the lesson,” Patting me on the head he explained, “As
you like to put it. You’re just to stupid to figure it out.” A sad look came upon him, “I wish you’d
stop saying that. You’re remarkably talented John. Everybody who knows you can see it clear
as day. And not one person understands your gifts more than you. Yet you’re the only one who
seems to forget.”
“Yeah,” I couldn’t agree more. “That sounds like something I’d say to myself.”
The dream of my true father chuckled. “Nobody outsmarts you better than you.”
We both laughed pretty hard after that. When the quiet returned I said, “I’m sorry. I know
I need to apologize to you one day for real. You put yourself out there for me. You got me into
the academy. And I got kicked out.”
“They didn’t understand you,” The dream pitied me. “You were practicing the sword.”
“Barely an hour a day…” It was a disgraceful excuse, and I always knew it was. “If that.”
The truth was, I kept telling myself I was gonna take my sword and my penmanship seriously.
But I just kept getting drunk, or going to watch a play or some live music. I never gave either
craft the time of day it was worth.
“I think we know why I’m here…” We locked eyes, but he didn’t look disappointed at all.
The real Elrin never would be. “You’ve come so far, but you’re still telling yourself the same old
story like you made it up yourself.”
As he spoke, a cold breeze came over me, and snow began to fall upon us. “You know
what the saddest part is?” The half-elf sat for a moment, almost waiting for me to answer, before
he said, “I don’t have to be in your head to tell you what the problem is. Nobody does. In fact…
Nobody needs to know you. Because at the end of the day, we can sit here and we can try to
break down who you are… and why you are the way you are. Or… You can finally admit there
is nothing original about what is wrong with you. Your faults are the least interesting thing that
makes you you. So it’s time you stop trying to define your reason for procrastinating so long,
and just say it out loud.”
The snow stopped falling, and rays of sun burst from every direction to melt the frost
away. I didn’t want to say it, because it just felt so stupid to say it. But, we both knew why he
was here. “Because I’m afraid to fail.”
“And that fear led you on a journey different than any other man, elf, dwarf, or orc,” Elrin
always loved saying that last part. “But that fear that drove that journey is no different than every
other man, and us creator’s look in the mirror and say it’s exclusive to ourselves. While the truly
narcissistic tell themselves, they have a problem far bigger than that.”
Unsure what to say I muttered, “I should still apologize. I failed. Scared or not.”
Placing his hand on the back of my neck he explained, “You know I’m not concerned
with how you let your fears block you in the past. All that matters is that today you’ve chosen to
throw yourself into Kayos. And in the end that’s all any of us can do.”
The dream was beginning to fade. And I didn’t want it to, “Thank you Elrin,” I smiled as a
tear appeared in my eye. Before long it drained like a waterfall, and the puddles below grew
larger.
“Thank you for growing.” Having never broken his smile, the half-elf was disappearing
like smoke, “I hope you survive John. But always remember, that none of us ever do…” His
body puffed away, and my eyes opened to find myself back in the cave.
Almost in an instant, the pain in my body washed away. Glish was hopping up and down
all excited, clearly feeling great himself. Zorthos ran past Syrielle and the corpse she created.
He smashed the lock on the cage holding the children.
Neither stepped out. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” They didn’t believe the demon.
Syrielle had risen to her feet, also looking much better. She quickly walked over to
Zorthos and the children, “Would you mind if I tried?”
He stepped away and Syrielle knelt down next to the cage to talk to the young ones.
Most curious, I walked over to our demonic savior to introduce myself, but he didn’t shake my
hand. It was kind of awkward.
Glish walked over as well. “Thanks for the assist bro.”
“Anytime… Bro…” Zorthos stared off into space for a second. “I don’t like that.”
Without another word he just walked out of the cave. Glish said, “See ya,” and didn’t
appear at all bothered the gesture was not returned. “I told ya he was nice. Nobody listens to
me.”
Syrielle had managed to get the kids to step out of the cage, once the devilman was
gone. We quickly walked them outside into the moonlight.
It grew dark almost immediately, which caused their parents to be on edge when they
heard us walking up the road. But once they saw their children they came sprinting forward.
Tessa’s parents charged while the other young girl, Kayla, ran straight for her uncle who had
been waiting for her at Tessa’s home.
Hannah ran straight over to the three heroes, giving each of us a hug. “Did you slay
him?” She eagerly locked eyes with each of us for barely a second at a time before she
switched to the next.
“The sorcerer?” I asked.
“The Devilman,” She reiterated.
“My boy saved us,” Glish announced proudly.
The young woman looked to me confused and I explained, “The devilman didn’t take the
children. He helped us save them.” As much as I wanted to brag, I was a man of honor. I had to
point at the real hero. “But to be honest. It was mostly that one there.”
Syrielle did an awkward little curtsey.
“Well I’m sure you were all so brave,” She placed her hands on my arm and pulled me
towards their home, “Please you all must spend the night. Let us show our gratitude.” The way
she said that last part, I was confident that whatever signals I wasn’t picking up on before I was
suddenly getting now. Without a doubt.
My samurai friend struck up a conversation with the children and their parents, as Danny
asked Glish if he broke Sam’s foot. I took the opportunity to smoothly take my moment alone
with Hannah.
We walked straight into the kitchen where she asked me to keep her company. With all
of the stress gone, her attitude changed entirely. She was much freer and quicker to laugh. Not
only that, but on several occasions she’d touch my hand. Even after everyone else came in and
interrupted us, we still continued to enjoy each other’s company.
Then her boyfriend showed up, sword in hand, ready to save the children. He had been
a few towns over, but got word just in time. She reminded him he’s not actually good with his
sword as I awkwardly walked over and stood next to Syrielle. It was obvious the way she was
smirking at me that she knew what just happened. Though while I could tell she was making fun
of me, there was also a hint of sympathy. Mostly making fun of me. Through the dirt smudge on
her cheek she might be kinda cute too, but it’s hard to tell because there’s even more dirt now
than before. Also blood.
With no good excuse, I was stuck spending the night. After a pretty average meal, my
first on the continent, Glish and I were banished outside to the barn where we slept on hay.
During the night, Tessa had horrible nightmares. She was terrified that the monsters
would return. Syrielle kindly offered to stay with her for a few days. “With my sword here, no
monster would survive trying.”
The little girl was pleased and accepted with glee. Glish and I however, felt it was time to
return to Grumbsy. I hadn’t even explored the town yet and the hafflin lived there. It wasn’t a far
walk, but we were both tired from a lack of sleep and didn’t feel like talking. Also I kind of didn’t
like him at all.
Upon arrival, Vergusson had moved from his tree. Only for us to find him under a
different tree near someone’s house closer to the center of town. Glish went to his shop, seeing
as he had work that day. He advised me to head to The Titan’s Trap. I was quite curious to
meet this Trant, who owned the bar and also ran the town.
It wasn’t particularly crowded inside. Roan was passed out in the corner, much like
Vergusson was outside. A few other patrons were sitting at the bar, and another few were at a
table. Nobody looked at me when I walked in.
The second I sat down at the bar, a tall plump red bearded man came barrelling through
the door to the kitchen. “Welcome to the Titan’s Trap. Can I interest you in a round of troll?”
With a huge smile held up a mug which I think got me a little drunk just from smelling it.
“You must be Trant?” I held my hand out and he quickly shook it without showing any
surprise that I knew his name. “I am Elrin Daun of Gladland. The Fighting Writer. I was hoping
for a warm meal and place to stay for the night.” My hands rubbed together with excitement.
“And then once those things are sorted out, I was hoping you could point me in the direction of
some interesting work.”
I could tell from his face I was asking the right man. “Well I don’t always have something,
but it’s often that I do. So stick around and I’ll keep you in mind.” I could hear the door behind
me open and the barkeep looked up with curiosity. “Or?”
Standing in the doorway was one of the most gorgeous beings I’d ever seen in my life.
With her pointy ears and olive skin it was obvious she was a tree elf. Her auburn hair fell down
to her elbows. There was barely anything covering her body, with only a random assortment of
leaves potentially held together by magic. “I need help!”
It was becoming clear to me that I wouldn’t have to travel much further than Grumbsy to
find myself an adventure.
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